Actually, there is SOMETHING I’ve been thinking about.

A few weeks ago, I was playing table tennis with my home girl; none of us knew the rules, but as long as the little ball was bouncing on the table, that was a win.

A dude came into the room from the balcony, and with the multitude of unattended couches available in every direction of the game room, he chose to sit right behind me. Weird, but I brushed it off.

We went on with our little match till my friend got tired. An opportunity the dude immediately grabbed, talking bout “can we play?”

To which I replied with “sure”.

He began mansplaining how to “properly” play table tennis, which he failed miserably at, and of course I didn’t hide the fact that I was laughing at him.

Bref, at some point we both got tired, then he motioned for me to sit so we could have a conversation. The nigga went ahead and turned off the lights. When I looked at him questioningly, he said he was doing it for the people who were watching a movie a few feet away from us. Okay, ophthalmologist, but nobody asked you to!

Bref, he pulled another couch and sat in front of me. A little too close.

The dude was wearing all black (black pants and a black jumper with the hoodie pulled up to his head, covering his hair).

He was tall and prolly had muscles to his bones, but that was the least of my concern.

I don’t want to say that he was ugly, but he had a face only a mother could love.

Muri make, asa nk’abandi. (This is what we use at home when we want to say that someone’s beauty is not appealing to us).

But of course, I’m not that insensitive, so I engaged in a conversation with him nonetheless.

It started with him asking me what I’m doing in Nairobi, the degree I’m pursuing, and how I’m finding Kenya so far.

Every single time I tried to attempt to answer his questions, he’d beat me to it and start talking over me. To the point where he started explaining to me what my very OWN capstone project is all about.

At that point, I didn’t have energy for that stupidity, so I kept quiet and looked ahead.

Then he ventured into what he thought was showering me with compliments, but it felt creepy.

He was like, “I like your shape, I like your size, I like your skin tone, blah blahhh

In my head, I had started plotting on how to leave that room ASAP!

So I kept saying thanks absentmindedly, just for him to peek at how uncomfortable it was and change the topic, but it flew over his head.

Then he dropped the bombshell

“Your body is like a spongy cake, I want to—

“STOP right there,” I said firmly, facing him and looking him dead in the eye.

Did that pass the message? No, the dude carried on as if I was talking to a wall.

Then, the dude had the nerve to add, “You don’t understand, your body is squishy and sweet—

How can you say something like this to a person you just met?

“Excuse me, but this is weird and nasty, and you need to stop,” I said to him, starting to get pissed.

“If you want to compliment me, use the right words. And for your information, I’m neither an object nor a product; I’m a human being. Don’t objectify me.”

“Okay, but I just wanted to let you know that I like you,” He said as if that should magically erase the dumb shit he had just blurted a few seconds ago.

YOU LIKE ME?? Really??

We just met 30 minutes ago, and apart from a lack of physical attraction on my side, intellectual attraction is also nowhere to be found.

Mentally, I started coming up with excuses to shut him off.

“Should I say that I have a boyfriend, or better yet, a husband?” These never work.

Even if I were to show him the diamond ring that I had bought for myself and lie that I was engaged to a man, he wouldn’t back off.

With the steadiest voice I could muster, I told him, “ I’m a lesbian,” and left it at that, for his pea-sized brain to catch on.

“No way, you’re lying.” He sounded genuinely surprised, and that was my cue that my plan had worked.

“Why would I lie? I’m actually engaged to my girlfriend.” I held up my left hand and flashed the diamond ring.

“But, but how come? I would never have guessed it. And you don’t look like a stud,” He said, trying to put two and two together but failing miserably.

“Well, my girlfriend is the stud,” I said, feeling myself get into character.

“ But you know god destined man and woman to be together,” He tried to reason with me.

Boy, do you think I was born yesterday?

“I’m an atheist.” Yet another bombshell.

“This is my first time seeing a Rwandan girl who’s lesbian and atheist,” He exclaimed, looking at me from head to toe.

“Well, surprise,” I said unenthusiastically.

“Anyways, that works for me. I love lesbians.” He said, winking at me.

I blinked three times. What exactly works for you?

When I didn’t reply to him, he carried on.

“I’d like to know how you and your girlfriend perform sexual intimacy,” He said so casually, as if he were stating the current status of the weather.

I stared at him for a good minute.

Then, I calmly told him that information about my sexual life is confidential, and that it’s NONE of his business.

“Ohh, now I get it. The reason why you were shying away from my gaze was because you like girls,” He exclaimed as if he just found the cure for cancer.

“You’re right, and if you’ll excuse me, it’s getting late, and I have work in the morning.” With that, I stood up and left.

I walked quickly towards the elevator, crossing my fingers, hoping that we wouldn’t have to ride in the elevator together, and the wish was granted.

Usually, I would have tried my best to engage with whatever gibberish he was saying and prolly given him my number, but the reason I even made this whole attempt was because I was feeling a tad bit safe; there were like three other people in the room, and there were cameras everywhere, so I didn’t have to worry about him unaliving me just because I wasn’t interested in him. And trust me, there are lots of situations where it went like that, unfortunately.

My point is, men need to learn the comprehension of the word NO.

In this big 2026, “NO” doesn’t mean you should try harder; it means stop what you’re doing and leave.

And this is not enough; some girls might not feel safe saying the word no, but take note of the body language and leave when you see that she’s uneasy or uncomfortable.

Below, I’m going to examine three live samples of those boys. If you recognise yourself, shame on you; and for the rest, if the shoe fits, wear it.

Two of them were in my DMs; the third one came from the Snapchat confessions.

Sample 1

Okay, let’s unpack from the top. In what scenario does “you’re actually fine” come off as a compliment? You’re not supposed to answer this; just let it marinate in your head for a minute.

So me being fine was subjective to that particular video? Ese ubundi why the hell is fine being considered as a compliment? Fine what? I dare you to say shit, because what’s fine about being a shit?

Maybe they’re scared of misspelling gorgeous, ethereal, beautiful, and pretty because I can’t find any other logical explanation for that.

I’m not even sure why I added a smiling emoji to that, because there was absolutely nothing funny in what he had said.

So I’m actually fine, while I was also fine before? Make it make sense.

Nonese bagenzi, how does a person feel intimidated in an intimate way?

Mind you, I’ve never met this dude irl.

I don’t even know why I feel the need to explain what I was wearing, but here it is. It was a simple pair of jeans with a top, and then I made a transition and wore a red long dress that reached my feet, no slits, no cleavage showing. And it didn’t even hang to my body.

What part of my being made him comfortable enough to tell me this? While I recognize the fact that a human mind can host very disturbing thoughts, why did he feel the need to reveal them to me?

But one thing about me is I’m going to ask questions.

You can’t just dump a bombshell on me and expect me to hold it with welcoming arms.

And how do you go from that to “never mind you just cute”?

If you managed to muster the nerve to blurt that BS to me, how come you shy away from clarifying it?

I never replied after that because, frankly, I can’t imagine what he would be saying once he's actually gotten comfortable with me as a friend.

I don’t feel any remorse for ghosting him.

Sample 2

Picture this: you were followed by a random person on Instagram, and this is the opening line to a potential conversation.

Ubwo se, in what dimension does a woman looking good equate to going on dates?

The non-existent date you invited me to? Usibye ko I would decline in capital letters.

That’s my first interpretation.

The second one is, with my comprehension of English acquired from lots of whoppings in primary school, that sentence in the literal sense would mean I look good every other time except on dates.

Why was he even concerned about my love life? If I went on dates or didn’t, what benefit does it add to his life?

That was my first time using that emoji— okay, not my first, but I was glad it was accessible to me, because it held my visual perception of what he had just said.

I didn’t even wait for his reply; instant block.

Sample 3

There are so many things wrong with this, but one thing is certain, these two boys with brains 🫲—🫱

If you like men, just say it; nobody is forcing you to date women.

I want to assume that the sex happened with consent, but I’m sensing some form of coercion. Ngo she agreed because “it was your birthday”, almost as if you couldn’t wait to take her supposedly “virginity,” and now you just had to use your birthday as bait. Is it a commodity that she had bought and now she’ll be handing it to you as a gift?

And I’m not sure why men are still hung up on the whole virginity thing. All I’m going to say is there’s no scientific way of proving women’s virginity. Not the presence or absence of the hymen, not the bleeding, and definitely not the tightness of the vagina. If you’d like to educate yourself, read my other article.

Imagine being so dumb that you compare a woman’s vagina with the Strait of Hormuz. Ngo it wasn’t tight at all?

*Sigh

Y’all know that a vagina has muscle tissues, right? And if anyone had actually paid attention in biology class, they’d know muscles contract and relax.

A quick Google search generated this:

During sexual arousal, the smooth muscle tissues within the vaginal walls undergo a process called vasodilation and relaxation to prepare the body for intimacy.

While it sounds counterintuitive, the primary response of the vaginal smooth muscle tissue during early arousal is to relax.

• Lengthening: The smooth muscle fibers in the vaginal wall loosen their usual resting tension.

• Tenting: This relaxation allows the vaginal canal to widen and elongate.

• Uterine Elevation: As these muscles relax, the uterus is pulled upward. This creates a tenting effect that expands the back of the vagina

This happens when a woman actually likes, or in their case loves, the man she’s going to have sex with. She’s essentially feeling safe and comfortable. She’s actually enjoying the activity.

On the other hand, mr doofus is wondering why the woman is not tight. He’s wondering why the woman is actually enjoying it and not crying in agony with pain. And the other guy that created that “safe space” is confirming the stupidity, talking bout ‘you got scammed my boy’.

Scammed? Seriously? Was he going to pay for that birthday sex?

While we might have been raised with these dumb mentalities and perceptions on women’s bodies, it just gets to a point where you have to actually start questioning and educating yourself on the reality of it. We’re privileged to be one of the generations that has easy access to lots of information; let’s use that to our advantage while also keeping in mind to consider the credibility of those resources.

After finishing primary school with flying colors, my only wish was to go to a boarding high school. And as luck would have it, my parents declined in a very unapologetic way. Talking bout you can’t even wash your clothes. Which was a lie btw because I was in charge of washing my uniforms. The only aspect where that argument proved to be correct was when it came to washing jeans and a duvet, and I doubt I’d be washing that every weekend.

My rebuttal was that I could always learn how to do that because, frankly enough, I don’t believe everyone was born with that skill; we all had to learn it along the way.

Then came the second, the most powerful argument: You’re not strong enough to withstand the harsh conditions of a boarding life.” At that time, I had like 37kg, not because my parents didn’t feed me enough but because my body had its own agenda and gaining weight was non-existent.

Since I couldn’t fund my own tuition or rent my own place, I had to succumb to their decision; however, they promised me that I would surely attend a boarding school in my A-level.

Fast forward to the grand holidays after my O-level national exams. As I had just changed schools towards my last year (S3), and add to that the private school I had transferred to wasn’t serious about studies, my results were not exactly “wow” deserving, but apparently it was enough to land me in an excellent Catholic all-girls school. (Excellence in regards to studies, other aspects down the drain).

Well, since most of the people I know irl have become my subs, my anonymous personality has been crashed.

*Sobbing in capital letters.

The school I went to, that I would also attend for the following gruesome three years, was FAWE Girls’ School, specifically located at Gisozi.

As you’ve probably picked up right on, FAWE wasn’t exactly listed as the school recommended to me by NESA; my Papa had to request for a spot. I believe it’s worth mentioning that I had an uncle who taught at that school too.

FAWE wasn’t my choice; in fact, it wasn’t even on my mind when I thought about boarding schools I wanted to attend. My first choice was Blue Lakes because most of my friends would be going there, and my brother would also transfer there. My Papa and I went to check it out and got a list of all the requirements; the pool and the food were the green flag, the red flag was that they didn’t have the combination I wanted (MCB) and the Director tried to gaslight me, after telling my Papa to give us a second and wait at the door, that I should go for MPG, but I knew physics was not for me the moment a teacher asked me back in S1 the meaning of physics and my creative mind tried to connect it to the word police (because I wanted to become one) and then I confidently raised my voice to say it was the study of becoming a police woman. Yeah, embarrassment was an understatement. Well, the following years of learning physics in O level proved that it absolutely wasn’t for me, so even the pool and pizza on weekends wouldn’t convince me to take on physics. So, I declined.

Second option: go back to my previous school (KCS) and try out their boarding life. My consolation was that it was close to home, and some of my siblings still studied there, and that some of my friends would still be studying there.

You know how parents like to willingly inform every family member on the latest updates of their kid’s life; my Papa is at the front of that line. That’s how my said uncle beautifully presented FAWE and debunked both of my options with the simple yet dangerous word to African parents. “Ibirara”

“Hariya hose ashaka kujya haba ibirara”. Suddenly, my Papa agreed that he didn’t want to send her precious daughter to a school of ibirara. Mind you, that didn’t stop my brother from attending BLIS. Additionally, even though I was a day student, I had been studying with the said birara at KCS for a year.

Anywho, on a random day, my Papa and I went to FAWE to request for a spot. We waited in line with other parents. When our turn came, we stood up and marched to the headmistress's office, and the moment she raised her head to look at me, she started calling out to god.

My Papa and I looked at each other, confused.

“Ninde wababwiye ko ngewe nakira ibirara hano”? That was the first opening line from her.

I looked at myself, then behind me, trying to find who she was talking to.

“Ni wowe mbwira muko,” she said in an irritated tone.

She turned to my Papa, “Ni gute wemerera umukobwa wawe kuza muri office yanjye asa gutya?” she said to him.

My Papa gave me a once-over and still couldn’t find anything worth describing me as “ikirara”. I was wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt, not even a crop top.

She then pointed to my head. Ladies and gentlemen, nari narakaraze umusatsi. It wasn’t even that visible since I had a generous amount of short hair.

My Papa apologised, saying that it was just a simple hairstyle for kids in their holidays since I couldn’t braid my short hair.

She continued, “uyu mwemeye yazantwikira ikigo” to both of our faces.

Ahaaaaa

I don’t even know how to process that one.

Well, she dismissed us and told me that she would be disposing of my file at her earliest convenience.

So we went home.

I was happy because I never liked an all-girls school, and now I had a valid reason for not attending it.

*Sigh

Well, you remember how I said I had an uncle at that school. He had put in a good word and managed to convince her that I’m a normal kid.

A week later, I had already told my friends I would be going back to KCS when my Papa broke the news to me that I would have to instead go to FAWE.

I was disappointed, but the decision had already been made. The next day we went to shop for things I would be taking to boarding school. Suddenly, boarding school didn’t seem as exciting as before. But I presume, with my previous articles, y’all know how I can be resilient and determined. So I went on with it.

Et puis twaguze mare imwe bakora mu gacingiro, which is just ‘metal suitcase’ due to the apparent thievery reputation of boarding schools. And every other relevant thing.

The day of departure, my Papa had a work meeting, so I went with my sister and my aunt. Prior to that, I was trying my level best to eat each and every snack known to earth to ensure that I had a large reserve in my body to last me the next three months, but for some reason my throat wouldn’t cooperate. Not even when I drank juice to ease the flow. I gave up and tried not to think about my doom. My head had been shaved clean, ripping off any possibility of being assigned the infamous word “ikirara”.

As we approached the school gate, my heart started beating fast; I was sure that if it weren’t for the pericardium, I would have left it in the car. We went to their supposed reception to pay school fees, and they gave me a pair of uniforms.

Ladies and gents, I was used to wearing pants at my former school, and now I was going to wear rumbiya ifite amadinda 😭. They didn’t even have my size, so one of the students told me I should “kwimura igipesu” and she helped me change its position on the skirt in front of everyone and let me not start with the shirt, yari imeze nkiya motari, it was too big but as you know, I will grow into it, that was how I was consoled by my aunt.

I took a picture with my sister, and then I saw them leave.

At that time it was around 5 pm, and I had the metal suitcase so I needed someone to help me carry it. They told me to go and wait at the matron’s office, whose name I’d learn later to be Anono 😂 (a very angry woman). I carried it with another person, then went and waited at her office door. I saw lots of girls running, and turns out that every Monday there were general sports for all students after class.

Anono finally came and showed me to my dorm. Since I had come later, the only bed available was right after the entrance door. And I was the only one in that chambré. Each chambré contained two single bed metal bunk beds. The remaining 3 beds were empty. I settled in my metal suitcase and propped my well-tied mattress on the bed stand. Yes, we had to bring our own mattress and beddings, and the mosquito net too. And no fragrances or anything that would contribute to a student smelling good was allowed. If found, it would be confiscated.

I feel like I should make a separate article for all the dumb rules we had.

Anywho, there was a military clock that I wasn’t aware of because as soon as I started unpacking, a student prefect came to close the dorms talking bout we should have been in class already for preps (evening study revision). I only managed to wear open shoes and didn’t even have time to retrieve my books.

I spotted my class on the second floor, written on S4 MCB. I made my way to it. Upon reaching my class, I realized the only vacant spot was at the back, so I went to sit there.

It might happen to me only, but whenever I enter a room with unfamiliar faces, they all seem to look alike.

I started conversing with my new seatmate, and I learnt that she had also come from a mixed school. At that time, I was convinced on the assumption that the only thing that girls from a single school do is gossip left and right. Which is very wrong because I got to meet beautiful souls that are good friends of mine to this day.

Anywho, someone screamed my name in class, and when I looked up, I found one of my childhood friends I had lost contact with sitting in a different row, waving at me. My heart felt a little bit at ease. Then the school bell rang, a sound that would later trigger bad feelings in me. Everyone seemed to rush to get out while I took my precious time.

It was when I got out of the class that I realized my grave mistake. A dude was standing in the middle of the ground holding a long stick. That was our patron. It was a foreign concept that a man would beat girls, especially those who are in A level. But yohh was I deceived😭

Even big girls in S6 were holding their skirts while running😭

At both of my former schools, the kids who ran to the refectory were kids in S1 (trust me, I was among this group once; they even called me the flash😭)

The rest had to perform nonchalance in our strides to the refectory. It doesn’t matter if you only had 10 minutes left for lunch, as long as you walked nonchalantly the 7 minutes left.

Safe to say that at some point I started running too; the thing is you don’t have to be at the front, just make sure you’re not at the back.

The refectory was full of chaos. Some students didn’t know which table they were supposed to sit at, and I was among those students. So we just stood in the middle of the refectory.

The DOD(Director of Discipline), who was a nun, stood in front of us, calling out our names from her head. We were new students, but she had already mastered our names, from what you may ask? I’m not sure since I didn’t even introduce myself to her directly.

Bref, she called out my name and instructed me to go sit at table 10. When I had entered the refectory at first, there were two big metal dishes on each table, I hadn’t paid attention to its contents but as I sat on my table, I realized that one held posho (kawunga) which didn’t even amount to half the dish and the other had beans with amamininwa (if I had the chance to eliminate a food plant it would be beans) but I would later learn that it would be part of my 2 daily meals.

We were 10 students at that table. A student prefect said a general prayer, then our table chief started serving us the almost-to-none food. I was used to having varieties on the lunch menu. I mean beans were obviously served at both of my former schools, but so were meat and chips, and that was my default choice.

I raised my voice to the table prefect and asked where the meat and chips were. If I tell you the way all the heads turned my way, you wouldn’t believe me. I’m pretty sure some broke their necks too. I realized that some were laughing at me, but I was serious. In a very clear voice, she said: “There is neither meat nor chips; this is what we eat, and you’ll have to get used to it”.

As soon as she finished serving us, the same prefect from earlier came to say what turned out to be the finishing prayer, meaning the next activity on our military agenda was to hold our skirts and run to our classrooms for the second prep. At that time, it didn’t bother me a lot since I had eaten lots of snacks during the day and I didn’t want to bother my stomach with beans and amamininwa.

Upon reaching my class, I realized that I had biology notes to write while I hadn’t brought my books. My seatmate at that time was kind enough to lend me her new register with the promise of bringing mine the next morning to make an exchange. Well, the notes were just the table of contents, but apparently we had to memorize it.

The prep had started around 7:30 pm, and the bell rang at 9:30 pm, signaling the end. We then marched to the front of the refectory to have our night assembly, where we sang a gospel song and said a night prayer. Then we went to our dormitories.

I kid you not, the moment I reached my dormitory, the prefect turned off the lights. Mind you, I had not made my bed; in fact, my mattress still had the tie on. After pleading with her to spare me a few minutes, I realized that there’s nothing going to change.

I started looking for a razor blade to cut it apart; I didn’t have it. Nor did the girls in the next room, and that’s when I had to revive some type of John Cena strength to try and untie it myself. In the middle of my fight, Anono came to check on our dorm.

She didn’t even empathise with my stressful situation; instead, without any ounce of remorse, she said to me, “Aka se ko katararyama, kari mu biki?”

AYiiiiii

As if that’s not enough, she told me sternly that if I’m not in my bed by the time she comes back, “turabonana”

Sha nakoze iyo byabaga, I managed to untie it, and couldn’t find the same pair of bed sheets, so I used two different ones, didn’t even bother to properly fold it around the mattress, and at last slept in my uniform because I couldn’t find my pyjamas in the pitch-darkness, and her footsteps were echoing closer.

As soon as I started feeling relaxed in my bed, the bell rang. Everybody woke up and rushed outside to have their showers. I, on the other hand, took my precious time to arrange my things now that I had the electricity supply. I made my bed with the right bed sheets. Arranged my books and uniforms and finally wore a towel and took my toothbrush to go take a shower.

I later realised two things: they didn’t have showers, so we had to fetch water with the bucket. And there were no free shower rooms available, at least not the ones with dirty water, so I lowkey had to bathe OUTSIDE. Just great.

I went back inside, brought my bucket, and lined up in the queue. Now, at that time I was an easygoing person, so people were passing me left and right, taking my place, and I just stood there taking it all in like a champ because I didn’t want to fight.

Ehhh

My turn came around, and as soon as my bucket was full, I started showering next to a line of girls. 2 minutes in, I heard a bell. Everybody started rushing to the dorm. Me, I was still scrubbing and cleansing my body. In my head, I assumed it was the bell notifying us that shower time was over and now we could go ahead and resume preparations in our dorm. Little did I know😭💔

When I was finally done, I went to my dorm. As soon as I started lotioning my body, a prefect came knocking on the door aggressively, so I turned to her, “Can’t you see I’m getting prepared? Why are you shouting as if we’re at war?” She just stared at me and said, “I’m skipping your dorm, but just know that Anono is coming for you.” And just like that, my peace came back.

Not even a minute later, Anono came by my dorm with a long ahh stick. Uhmm yeah, I didn’t even get time to pick up my books; I just ran with an open shirt and a tie on my right hand, while the left hand held my skirt.

At the ground near my class, there was a bunch of students kneeling down. I don’t know what convinced my mind that it doesn’t concern me, but I passed them and started making my way to the class.

“Niko muko ubwo urajyahe?” The Patron called out to me. Well, I know I’m a girl, but that’s not my name. So I half turned with a sprinkle of attitude and said, “ngewe?” while pointing at myself.

I don’t even know how to explain what happened next; just know that I had more than my fair share of whoopings, and for the rest of the morning prep, I was digging. I don’t even know what I was digging for.

*Sigh

When I thought it wouldn’t get worse, it got worser, and that applies to the rest of the 3 years I spent there. Well, if we consider the COVID year, it becomes four, which was actually the worst year for me. But yeah, we survived.

Do y’all want me to make it a series, or was it traumatizing enough?😂😭

Either way, one thing is certain, no amount of money would make me go back to that school.

I believe that there were so many wrong things than the good ones, so my whole article will lean towards that.

In as much as it was rage bait to me, it was also eye-opening because there are times when I would just pause and do a little reflection on the absurdity I have just watched.

Well, here goes nothing…

Starting off strong

1. Lack of Self-esteem

I’m not trying to side with Jonasi, but there is only little you can do to change or control a person.

How can you care about people’s opinions over your own peace and happiness? I’m talking about Joyce. I understand that her whole career as an influencer was largely based on the supposedly “good marriage” she had with Jonasi, but seriously?

And no, it was not even for the good of her kids because he clearly wasn’t a good father to them. Also, how can a man, your husband, clearly show you he is no longer interested, and has already filed for a divorce, and yet you’re there inviting him for your 20th wedding anniversary? Talking bout renewing your wedding vows? What does it take to love yourself and move on with your life?

Then here comes Essie. She’s the only woman who got the bad end of the deal. She was never publicly announced as Jonasi’s wife, and her child faced the same fate. Despite being a ‘day one’ for Jonasi, the one who helped him with the last bit of her savings, the one who believed in his potential when he had nothing, was the one who still lived in the trenches. And the worst thing is, she knew it was wrong, yet she never did anything to change it. She was so understanding, always taking the leftovers.

While we’re at Essie, I believe it’s worth mentioning the craziness of her daughter, Sarah. I understand she had daddy issues, but that doesn’t justify throwing herself at her cousin/sister’s boyfriend, ngo it was a cry for help. Really? As if that wasn’t enough, she went ahead and tried to advance on her OWN uncle!!!

Ahh Matipa. The woman who clearly knew what she wanted, despite it being morally wrong. The woman who thought her punani would make her so special. The woman who thought she was clearly too smart for the game was undoubtedly proved wrong. You see, the thing is, you always think you’re the exception until you’re not. She thought she had Jonasi wrapped around her fingers, even went as far as to birth twins for him. And what good thing did she get out of it? Becoming the second wife, ohh wait, actually the third wife if we consider Essie.

At last, we have Lindani. For her, it wasn’t even a lack of self-esteem; that girl was sick. How can you date your best friend's father? How can you go ahead and carry his baby? Ubwo se she wanted to be the fourth mother to her best friend Mumpe? So her child would have been a sister or a brother to her best friend? What a twisted world.

1. Lack of financial independence

The hand that feeds you controls you. This statement has never been clearer to me till I watched the polygamist.

I still can’t fathom why Joyce never walked out in the first place. Her family was wealthy way before she met Jonasi. Her own father was the stepping stone to Jonasi’s success. The J&J company belonged to both of them. Jonasi repeatedly abused her and tampered with her mental health, her dignity, and her reputation, but she still wouldn’t let go. But now that I’ve watched the whole season, I can see that she was playing the long game. She just didn’t want the designated fifty; she wanted it all to herself. But at what cost?

I’m not even sure Essie had a job. She was solely dependent on Magesh’s monthly allowance, which, of course, came from Jonasi. Her low-maintenance character led her to count literal pennies trying to handle/keep up with her bills. And it’s not like she wasn’t able-bodied. Heck, I remember how she used to braid people’s hair back in the day, a side quest that funded Jonasi’s application for a scholarship. So why did she stop then? Why did she try to make herself small just to accommodate Jonasi, who didn’t even give a damn about her unless every other woman had refused him?

Even more, after spending many years wondering where the hell Jonasi was, she discovers on a random day that he got married. She’s heartbroken, and she moves on and gives birth to Freedom. Then, on another random day, Jonasi arrives with a ring, a dream house, a car, and a few lies, and just like that, everything is forgotten. She even gets pregnant with Sarah. A few days later, as she is shopping for their baby girl with Jonasi, the official wife appears (Joyce), and Jonasi introduces Essie as his brother’s wife. The disrespect yooh.

And she still looked past that and continued to be with him. For what exactly?

Matipa was obviously in it for the money from the start. Money she could have earned peacefully with her good position at J&J, but no, she had to go for the cherry on top. Sure, she got a good house, a nice car, and unlimited spending on her bank card. But that also came with humiliation, neglect, physical and emotional abuse, and caring for her twins alone, well, until she decided to drop them off at Joyce’s home. I’m pretty sure she decided to carry Jonasi’s babies because she thought he would divorce Joyce and become solely her husband, which is a lame reason to have kids, btw. Then, when she realized that Jonasi couldn’t care less, she decided she didn’t want to take the L, and therefore ABANDONED her kids. Anywho, aside from the fact that she left her kids unexpectedly with Joyce, I commend her for having the courage to start over.

Ohh Lindani, she not only came for his money but for his soul too. She was still in school for crying out loud. Coming from a middle-class family and experiencing a rather lavish life led her to turn a blind eye to Jonasi’s real personality. She tasted the soft life, and she was like I’m never going back to the trenches. She didn’t care about her boyfriend, her best friend, or her family, for that matter. All she wanted was to have the 11-course meals in a booked resort. I might be prolly wicked for being happy she didn’t birth his baby, because that would have been a deeper mess.

She was the first woman to give Jonasi a taste of his own medicine (I liked that too). When Jonasi was sick, her life moved on, and it even became better because she no longer had to cater to his needs, while she still enjoyed all the money on his account.

Magesh, the brother who took on the blame for Jonasi’s bad deeds. He literally took ‘forever in your corner’ too far; now he was under Jonasi's shoes. Always there at his beck and call. He literally married a woman he had no interest in, raised two children who were not his, just to keep Jonasi safe. The eligibility of him working at J&J was never about his competency, rather his willingness to cover Jonasi’s BS.

His whole life was put on hold just to make Jonasi’s world a little brighter. I understand the need to stick to your family, but at some point, it just becomes self-sabotage. The funny part is the same man, the same brother he was fighting for, didn’t bat an eye when he decided to fire him without remorse. And why was that? Because, for once, Magesh urged his brother to take accountability for his actions. Then weeks later, Jonasi comes back asking for help, talking bout his company is in shambles and Magesh is the only person he can trust to revive it. He doesn’t even apologize. And as predicted, Magesh falls for it.

I honestly think people who were severely oppressed were the kids. They had little control over the whole situation, if not none at all.

Mpume, who was apparently Daddy’s girl, didn’t actually live up to all the benefits that usually come with it. Her father ignored her, dismissed her concerns, gaslit her, and never apologized. Then he tops it off by pursuing her best friend, a girl who was the same age as his daughter. I’m pretty sure if Mpume went for an older man like her dad, Jonasi would have initiated the third world war. That’s what men like Jonasi operate; the only time they realize the misery they cause is when it’s done to them directly. I also commend her for moving past this BS and pursuing her education and career.

Menzi, the child who had a great share of physical abuse, amongst other forms of abuse from his father, ranging from beating him with the belt to choking him. The child who was told to man up, yet his father was far from being one. He was always torn between understanding where his father was coming from, but also wanting to protect his mother and his siblings, whilst also building himself. And as he is working towards his relationship with his dad, Jonasi goes ahead to pursue Lindani, knowing very well that his son Menzi already likes her. What kind of a sicko parent do you have to be to go after your son’s crush? As much as I appreciate him coercing his dad during his last days to change his will, I don’t condone the behaviour he inherited from his father later on.

Sarah, the abandoned child. The disgrace. The child who was supposed to remain in the shadow, despite her mother’s great efforts, which contributed to Jonasi’s success. Imagine begging your dad to recognize you as his child publicly. Imagine having to schedule an appointment with your dad just to share lunch, which was his way of discreetly dismissing her because he never showed up and never apologized. Imagine your whole existence being an inconvenience to your dad. The way she threw herself on Mpume’s boyfriend was her way of drawing attention to herself; it doesn’t matter if it was the bad kind, she just wanted to be seen for once. And when Magesh offered her the new laptop, she couldn’t believe that someone could offer something nice to her without expecting anything in return. Which makes sense, if I were to put myself in her shoes, because one of the ways we learn is through observation. If you take a closer look at all of the relationships Jonasi had with women, it was all transactional. I give you this, you give me that.

Freedom. They’ve never shown his father in the whole season, well, maybe they did, but I didn’t notice it. Despite being portrayed as a family drunkard, he is the one who had sense and saw Jonasi for who he was. He was always there for Menzi, tried to find solutions to his problems (some of them were skeptical), but he had good intentions. He also stood up for his mother and sister at a time when Jonasi was treating them as garbage, but of course, he was deemed the ‘weird one’.

The twins and Nkazi were obviously not aware of the whole mess, but I’m sure they knew that something was up. Kids can always sense bad energy.

Saving the best for the last huh😏

Jonasi. The most selfish, irresponsible, manipulative, abusive man in the whole movie. He neither cared for people’s emotions nor reflected on how his actions affected people who were close to him. The only thing he cared for was to satisfy his own needs. If ‘ you’ll never know my next move’ had a face, it would have been Jonasi. What bothered me a lot was the remorseless state he was in, even on his deathbed. Jonasi’s character showed me that money might help you live comfortably, but it should never be a substitute for the harmony in your family. And I’m so glad the taste of his own medicine finally took him out.

Now replace Love with DOGS.

I don’t really like pets.

But there are some particular events that I’ve experienced that made me develop an everlasting fear and resentment towards them for life.

I’m talking about dogs.

If you’re a dog lover, and you try to gaslight me, I’m pulling the trigger on you

Incident one

On a beautiful Saturday evening sometime in 2016, we were invited to my cousin’s graduation party at her home, Kicukiro.

The party had started around 5 pm, but we had to uphold our own African time, so we pulled up at 8 pm.

What we didn’t expect was the line of cars that began from their home all the way to the main road.

We had totally underestimated the gravity of her graduation party.

Our Papa dropped us at the gate, then indulged in the inevitable.

Finding a parking spot in the same vicinity.

Inside, the party was in full swing.

Not to mention the sweet aroma from the buffet area.

We went ahead to greet everyone and then served ourselves because there’s no way we’re disgracing our aunt’s cooking.

When I finally decided to sit down, I noticed a girl on my left side already smiling at me.

“I like your shirt.” She told me sheepishly.

“Awww thank youu” I managed to mutter while actively preventing myself from choking on the meat I had swallowed.

I was wearing a yellow t-shirt with a certain princess I can’t remember printed on the front.

Just then, our conversation started flowing effortlessly.

I found out we were in the same primary level, then we started talking about our upcoming national exams.

We ventured to our favorite shows, our aspirations, and then so suddenly, she asked me if I wanted to ditch the party for a few minutes to check on our parents’ cars.

I should have said no, but my curious self decided that exploring our parents’ cars was the best thing in the world.

After finishing the most important food on my plate (chips and meat), we took off on our adventure.

At the gate, the security guard asked us where we were heading to, then my new friend ohh so casually mentioned that she was going to retrieve her sweater in her parents’ car, and I was just escorting her.

She didn’t even have the car keys. But he didn’t need to know that.

He gave us a suspicious glance, but let us out nonetheless.

Since they’d come earlier, their car was parked closer to the gate.

Specifically, the third car from the gate.

After carrying out a mini inspection (I don’t even know what we were looking for), we decided to go hunt for my parents’ car.

Need I remind you that because of our punctuality, we couldn’t find a nearby parking spot 😭

We decided to follow the trek of parked cars, while talking about everything and nothing.

Mid-journey, we passed by a normal gate, but what was abnormal was the crazy barking dog.

You know the ka little space between the ground and the gate, that’s where beast— yes, I named it like that, tried to snooze in, barking at any living thing passing by.

Our conversation naturally drifted to that beast.

“If someone opened that gate, and the dog came running at us, I’d be faster than you,” I exclaimed, boosting my little athletic body.

With a hand on her hips, one eyebrow raised, “You bet, the flash is my middle name,” she said.

We all burst out laughing, then resumed our spree.

At the very end of the road, I spotted my parents’ car, and we rushed towards it.

To do what, I’m not sure 😭

Since our mission was accomplished, we decided to return to the party.

At the very moment we reached Beast’s home, someone opened the gate, and hell broke loose.

Beast charged towards us before the gate opener stopped him.

Hehhhhh

The way I rannnnn

Like my life depended on it

And true to my word, I was faster than her.

As you know, sound travels farther during the night.

When I heard her cries and couldn’t hear her footsteps behind me anymore, I felt bad.

What if she had fallen and hurt herself?

What if Beast had started devouring her?

I couldn’t risk stopping.

But I also wanted to see what was happening.

So I only did the reasonable thing that came to mind.

I risked a glance at the back while I was still running at full speed.

In that second, there are three things I achieved and took note of

1. My friend had given up on running and settled on sitting in the middle of the road, crying at the highest decibel you can imagine.

2. The dog had ignored her and instead wanted to keep up with my running spirit

3. In the midst of all that, I hadn’t noticed a pothole full of dirty water that was in front of me.

You can guess what came next

My face and upper body were planted in the pothole, drenched with the ugly water.

My original yellow shirt had taken on a polished brown color at the front.

Still, Beast couldn’t even empathize with me.

To him, I was the ice cream he had been craving ever since he was a small puppy.
(I’m not sure dogs eat ice cream but whatever).

I mean, he did have a point, but geez.

Hearing beast come closer gave me a new rush of adrenaline. I got up and sprinted like I never had in my life.

My friend’s cries had pulled people’s attention, and they came out of their homes in despair.

At this point in my race, I was near my cousin’s home.

People had come out, and they were forming a horizontal line on the road to try to stop me.

It’s either that I passed under their legs or skipped over them, because what they managed to hold was the dog chasing me.

As for me, I was miles deep into the nearby forest.

I wasn’t even scared of the snakes I’d meet there. (This should have been the number one on the list of animals I hate.)

Anywho, all I wanted was to be away from Beast.

My cousins came to fetch me, and it was after I returned to their house that I noticed all the bruises on my arms and legs.

Funny thing is, my friend didn’t even have a ghost scratch on her body.

My cousins were torn between making fun of me or tending to my wounds.

They did both 😂😭

Miraculously, my Papa wasn’t aware of my situation.

So he called out to me to greet some of his friends from high school who had fed me while I was still a baby.

My Papa doesn’t understand the logic of someone falling down, so informing him of my wounds would have been a death wish.

Instead, I borrowed une écharpe from my sister to cover the wounds on my arms and my new yellow and brown t-shirt.

In our Rwandan culture, while greeting, we hug each other and then extend an arm to shake hands.

Again, none of them knew my predicament.

You can imagine the immense pain I felt when each one of them brushed on my covered wounds while greeting, and I just had to smile and grit my teeth. (ngapfira muri nyagasani)

One of them even made it a point, by holding my wounded arm, to see how much I’ve grown.

You know how they say, “amarira y’umugabo atemba ajya mu nda” on that day I identified as a man.

Incident 2

A random Saturday last year, I was feeling good about myself while geting ready to go to work.

Yes I worked on Saturdays, even on Sundays.

I wore a yellow short fitted dress (just above my knee) and as a corporate baddie I had to add a shabarara. I topped it off with a black handbag and red short heels.

I set out to look for a bike while walking majestically, well, because I had heels.

Since it was after umuganda (community work), bike men didn’t get the memo that people actually had plans to move.

As I was desperately searching for one, that’s when I made eye contact with Beast number 2.

My heart started beating faster, and I scanned my eyes everywhere, looking for an urgent way out.

There was none.

All the neighboring gates were locked, and my chances of climbing a gate with that dress and heels were close to non-existent.

Knowing my luck, I’d probably meet another dog in that compound.

I couldn’t go back home, because I’d be late for work.

Plus, I would never turn my back on a predator. Well, I did before, and now we know how that turned out.

That day, I decided to face my fears.

Given that next to the dog, a man was standing while conversing on a phone, I expected him to be fully responsible for his dog.

I looked straight ahead and performed military walking steps to counteract the anxious pheromones I was surely releasing.

I passed by them safely and continued my journey.

A young girl, prolly around 7 years old, was walking towards me, with a small envelope in her hand.

I looked at her, and she looked at me.

Since she was heading to the danger zone, I snuck a glance back at beast number 2.

Till this day, I’m not sure what aggravated him, but all I know is he came running towards us, barking really loudly.

In desperate attempts to remain alive, the little girl and I noticed the open gate behind us.

She dropped the envelope, while I slipped off my heels, and we both ran to our saving grace.

Inside, a man was pounding cement, and we all ran towards him, hiding behind his back.

Concerned, he started asking what was wrong.

When we didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to go search for the danger, aka the source of our misery.

A few minutes later, he came back with a warm smile on his face.

Then he told us that they’ve taken care of the beast, so it’s safe to go outside again.

I looked at the young girl and motioned for her to hold my hand. Emotional support, probably.

I peeked out first, assessed my surroundings, and then led her outside to where we had left our valuables.

I wore my heels again, while she bent down to pick up her envelope.

No words were exchanged; we just hugged and continued our separate ways.

This doesn’t mean these were my only marvelous encounters with dogs; there were plenty, but these two have been ingrained deep in my conscience.

And for those of you that say, ohh my dog doesn’t bite

Idc, get that beast away from meee

I’ve just realized that I was wearing yellow on both occasions, and they all happened on Saturdays.

From now until further notice, yellow color is my opp, and I’ll consider Saturdays as the Friday 13th

To my fellow community members, what were your marvelous encounters with beasts?

These are MY opinions, you’re free to have yours, okay 🫶🏿

This dates to when I got my first job, sometime last year.

I had worked a 6 am - 3 pm shift because I genuinely missed walking under the sun.

(I was sun-deprived) talk bout the joys of the corporate world🙄

Well, that and because I had school assignments to work on.

By that time, I had convinced myself that, if a bike drops me off within a 10 ft radius of my home, walking that distance counts as a physical activity.

If you take into account that I live on a hill, it literally is a physical activity😭

So the bike dropped me off at a random gate, I paid the guy, then started my 3-minute walk.

Mid journey, prolly after a minute, I met my neighbor (a married man).

We greeted each other, and then he complimented me, saying, “I looked good.”

But I still thanked him, politely.

He then casually asked me, “tuzanywa fanta ryari?” (" When are we going to drink soda?”)

I genuinely didn’t know how I spent my first paycheck.

Well, I actually knew how, because I had bought all the necessary and unnecessary things, and I was only left with the exact transport fare that would cover me till the next paycheck.

But he didn’t need to know that.

So I laughed humorlessly, told him that I would let him know when I get the next paycheck, so I can take them out. (Him and his family).

Obviously not happening, but he doesn't need to know that, either.

The look he gave me, I was certain I’d grown a second head.

“Not that, I’m talking about marriage,” he dropped that bombshell oh so casually.

Ladies and gents, the look I gave him seemed like he was the one with a second head.

By that time, I was a second-year student.

SECOND year!!!

At 19 years old!!

Not even the legal age of getting married, unless you have valid reasons.

I’m not even done with my bachelor’s, and you’re talking about marriage?

I just got my first job, with a minimum ahh salary, and the greatest achievement you expect of me is marriage?

I haven’t built my own career, and you want me to marry?

For what exactly?

How sure are you that I even want to get married?

*Is what I would have said if I wanted an emergency family meeting.

I had bigger fish to fry.

So I gave him the same answer I give to those aunts at family functions.

“Maybe in 10 years,” as I walk off, leaving them with an illusion that I was probably joking, and I will definitely change my mind soon.

The ironyyyy💀

After wasting 5 minutes of my precious afternoon, I walked the next two minutes in deep thought.

Why are people, especially from the older generation, so pressed about marriage?

Why can’t you worry about your own marriage and leave my life alone?

Like chill, even if I were to get married, I’ll be the one tied to that person for a lifetime, and that can still change if I see that it’s not working for me.

And don’t let me start on having children!

The moment you disclose that you don’t want to have children, you’ve suddenly committed a federal, vicious crime.

Ohh you’re so selfish.

Yeah right🙄

So if I went out with a group of people, and they all ordered the same meal, am I supposed to order that same meal just because everyone ordered it?

It’s not even about allergies; what if I just don’t like that meal?

Children might be blessings, but they’re also a responsibility.

A lifetime responsibility.

It’s not a car I get to purchase today, and sell it the next month.

It’s a literal human being that fully depends on me.

Not just financially, but mentally, and emotionally.

So if I realize that I won’t be able to offer that and choose not to have children, it makes me selfish?

What about those who come to the same realization as me, but still choose to have children?

And when the child grows up and calls out their BS, all of a sudden, it’s their first time living.

So what about the child you gave birth to?

How many times have you given birth to that same child to deem him or her more experienced in life than you, the parent?

In fact, who made that choice to bring that child to earth?

We’ve fought so hard to be given that choice.

I mean the feminist movement.

And yes, I’m a feminist, a radical one at that.

What makes you think your opinion on my choice matters to me?

I’m not against marriage or having children at all.

That’s your choice, and I respect that.

Why isn’t the same applied to the person who doesn’t want that?

Ohh if you don’t have children, you’re going to die alone…

Duhh

The last time I checked, dying wasn’t a group project.

Ohh, who’s going to take care of you when you get older?

Myself and the money I’ve earned will cater for the rest.

And what makes you think children and relatives are the only ones capable of caring for the elderly?

If you think having children is an investment project, then you’re the selfish one.

Coming from an African Household, particularly Rwandan, parents would rather sell their car than have you practice on it.

Let alone teach you how to drive.

And my father’s argument?

You don’t even have an ID!

Seriously?

Well, by then, I didn’t even know the difference between a manual and an automatic car😭

After drive pressuring my Dad, he enrolled me in a driving school when I turned 17

I didn’t even bother with provisoire (theory part which entails road rules), I went straight to the road.

Well, actually, at the learning ground. But what matters is how quickly I grasped the skill.

Especially parallel parking, which for some reason was difficult for others.

My teacher couldn’t believe it and often joked that I might have been a driver in my previous life.

For those of you questioning my driving skills, I’ll have you know that it was a manual car.

But the issue was to get my driver’s license, I still had to wait till I turned 18, then take and pass the theory test, and proceed to the practical part and pass it too.

Fast forward, 4 months after I turned 18, I took my theory test and passed with flying colors (17/20 ) on the first try.

Key word, first try!

And my next challenge was to apply for a practical driving test, which I did.

But before that, I had to take serious sessions on all aspects of driving.

But my teacher, on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

He would make me leave my home at 3 pm, the perfect hour of the Sun to burn your skin, and turn you blind, and as soon as I’d reach the learning ground, he’d tell me he had ‘an emergency,’ so he has left Kigali, and he’s currently in the province.

This was a normal occurrence, and I grieve the nerve that led me to pay him the full price.

…

On 29/11/2023, I woke up at 5 am and didn’t even bother having breakfast; all I wanted was to reach the learning ground as fast as I could because my teacher would be taking me for the practical driving test.

We had agreed to meet at 6 am sharp, I kept my time, but the dude arrived 30 MINUTES later.

Mix annoyance, irritation, and anxiety, and there you have the visuals of my face at that time.

I didn’t know whether to confront him or cry, so I was mute all the way.

The test started at 7 am, approximately at the same time as we arrived. Given the strictness of the Police, it was by luck that they allowed me to take the test.

The first part: Driving in reverse through a narrow pathway with lined cones on each side. You’re not to stop or hit any of the cones till you’re done.

Passed it!

The second part: Parallel parking; the perimeter of the parking is lined with 7 slim tree stands, which are supposed to represent people/vehicles/other things, meaning your vehicle is not supposed to touch them, and the whole process should not exceed 7 minutes, including driving out of the parking.

Just as I was walking towards my car to start parking, the female police officer looked me up and down, then asked in a suspicious tone, “Ubu se wujuje imyaka 18?” (Have you even turned 18?)

Let’s say math is ancient to you, and you can’t operate a calculator, how do you think I was able to apply through Irembo (gov't platform) if I wasn’t eligible due to my age?

*Is what I would have said if I wanted to fail on the spot.

Instead, I replied with “yes, ma’am.” As politely as I could.

“Ngaho genda ndebe ibyo ukora” ( Go, let me see what you’ll do), she told me with a hint of mockery. But I didn’t let that get to me, because I believed in my skills.

The first three minutes I was in a parking spot, but my car was not aligned with the required measurements, probably due to a miscalculation. So I drove out of the spot and redid it, and this time it was perfectly aligned at the 5th minute.

I honked the horn to get her approval and drive out of the parking spot, to essentially pass the second part.

I honked once, twice, thrice.

The woman paid no attention until the remaining 2 minutes were over, then she moved to my window and told me that the time was up, and I should go home.

I had failed parking.

I painfully looked at her, unable to comprehend her cruelty and unfairness.

I knew begging her was futile, and I didn’t want to give her the pleasure of seeing me cry.

I got out of the car, signed my name, and exited the ground.

I met my teacher outside and told him what happened.

With an incredulous amount of audacity bestowed upon the yt people, he started insulting me, blaming me for failing something that had come easily to me during practice.

This is how I wanted to shout at him, but I didn’t want to waste my precious breath.

Given the fact that the last day of practice before the exam, while parking, my car was twisted the same way it had been in the exam.

When I asked him to correct me, he blatantly said it’s nothing important, then added that he trusted my skills.

If it wasn’t for the darkening clouds, I would have taken a bike home, but the idea of drenching myself on that particular bad day didn’t appeal to me. So, he gave me a ride home, and couldn’t keep his mouth closed all the way.

Given his anger, when he didn’t even contribute a penny, I feared the wrath I’d get from my Dad, so I delayed calling him till I was with my sister at home.

After bawling my eyes out, I gave my sister the liberty to notify him, but he insisted that he wanted to talk to me; his calm voice was all it took to silence my hiccups.

He comforted me, told me that it’s normal, especially when you’re still young, people assume you’re incapable and try to abuse the power they hold, then he ended with, " Go out with your sister, my treat”.

Oh, how I love my Dad

Later that day, he told me to let him know whenever I’m ready to take another test.

23/01/2024

4 months later, I was ready to take my second test.

At a different site, though, further away from home, with a different teacher.

He was younger than the previous one, quite playful, and I trained with him for 3 days before my exam.

The day of the exam, I woke up at 4 am, didn’t take breakfast, and rushed to take a bike, since the site was located in the province, and I resided in Kigali.

After the grueling 50 minutes of the ride, in the gushing wind, I arrived at the site, registered myself, and then sat in the tent waiting for instructions.

1 hour later, I had passed the first part and the second part.

The third part: Circulation; this is where 2 police officers come along with you while you drive through the neighborhood. They assess your knowledge on shifting gears, speed, blinkers, and how well you handle obstacles on the road.

It went well, and I had to seal it off with the last bit they call ‘T-cross.’

This is basically a narrow pathway with lined cones on either side, with parallel vacant space in the middle of both lined cones, where you are expected to reverse and park to one side, then drive out from the other side.

I did pass through, but while I was reversing, a guy came rushing towards me, in a rushed manner, telling me to stop.

I got out and realized I had taken down a whole row of cones on the left side.

I was so convinced that I would pass all the tests that I started questioning where I went wrong.

Then I remembered how the previous night, during practice, I kept pleading with my teacher to let me have my turn at the T-cross before it got dark, but he kept saying that he had students who were older (so I had to offer respect by giving up my spot as if we didn’t pay the same amount).

Secondly, he said they’d failed more than 5 times, so they deserved more priority.

He then concluded that I was smart, and he trusted my skills.

Does this ring a bell?

I don’t know how to fight, so I kept my cool.

My turn came around, and it was 7 pm, pitch dark. The whole ground had no lights.

I wasn’t even able to see the cones on my side.

The headlights could only light up the front cones.

He made desperate attempts to light the cones on my right side with his flashlight, while I was reversing, only for me to wipe out the whole row of the left cones, because I couldn’t see them in the side mirror.

He told me not to worry about it, that I would do great on the test.

Still, when I called my Dad, he told me it was okay, that I should come home and rest.

This is when I realized that it’s just pure luck to be able to pass these exams.

The way everything is so rigid, and to think that it doesn’t even amount to anything you’ll meet on the road in real life.

On 10/3/2024, I registered for another exam to be held on 22/04/2024

On 12th March, I had a root canal extraction, which left me with an infection.

My left cheek was almost the size of my fist. The only thing I was able to feast on was soup.

On 18th March, I was completely cured.

On 4th April, I had an accident while I was on a bike.

We were approaching the traffic light, and my bike man inclined towards the left side to make space for the car on our right, while another car on our left side inclined towards our lane.

As a result, the point of collision was my left foot. I was wearing open shoes.

My foot brushed on the side of the car so fast that I would have thought I’d imagined it, if it wasn’t for my white nail polish effervescently turning black.

A few seconds later, I felt a stinging pain in my left foot.

I stole a quick glance and realized a wound was forming just below my toes.

A rather ugly one.

I immediately notified the bike man, who made it his purpose to stop that car.

I called my Dad, tried to tell him what happened, but couldn’t because of the pain.

The bike man took charge and explained, while also mentioning our location.

He told us to meet him, with the driver, at his workplace.

There was no extra seat in that car, not that I would voluntarily go with the guy who almost took off my left foot.

I stayed on the bike for the whole 50 minutes of the journey.

At some point, my foot had gone numb from the unwavering wind.

Reaching my Dad’s workplace, I struggled to get off the bike, since my foot was already swelling, covered in red substance.

He picked me up and buckled me in his car.

He dealt with the dude, then took me to a clinic to clean the wound. Something he would have done himself, but he wanted me to feel validated by visiting the doctor’s office first.

I’m not a fan of alcohol in beverages, and definitely not on a wound.

I was fighting the doctor and my Dad to the point that they had to call 2 more nurses to hold me down and clean my wound.

The following weeks were brutal. It was defined by the following:

My foot couldn’t get any bigger than an elephant’s foot.

I couldn’t go anywhere.

I wore dresses and skirts only.

My left foot never felt the comfort of my bed sheets.

It was always drafted out in the open.

I could only lie on my back.

But my Dad ensured it was properly disinfected twice per day.

A week later, you can imagine his surprise when I told him I still wanted to pursue my practical driving test.

He looked at me as if I had said the most outrageous thing. Well, kind of.

But I was serious.

He told me that the issue was no longer the money I spent when registering, but the risk of jeopardizing my health.

But my stubborn self told him I’m almost healed.

The next day, I put on socks over my semi-dry wound, then wore closed shoes and casually walked past him, to show him that I’m indeed healed.

There was some truth in that, but I still felt an immense pain in my left foot.

By now, you should know that whatever I set my head on, I need to achieve it by fire by force.

I spent the next few days taking frequent walks in my neighborhood.

At some point, I even started jogging.

Okay, that was a lie.

But I did try to walk faster, and I’m thankful that my foot got the memo and obliged.

Witnessing my determination, my Dad gave in and took me himself to the 2nd exam site and changed my teacher.

That was where he lost me.

I told him I was perfectly fine with my second teacher.

He then challenged me by saying, ‘If he were perfect, then why did you fail?’

Which was a valid question that I didn’t have a scientific answer to, so I gave in.

The new teacher came with different rules, different calculations, and approaches, which were quite overwhelming given that I had to take my test in two days!!

He was stern but patient with me, especially when I tried to outsmart him using my previous techniques, which obviously failed miserably.

The conditions of my foot, you may ask?

The wound had dried, but it was still very present.

I had done a good job of covering it by wearing closed shoes every day, ensuring that no one knew I had an active wound beneath my shoe laces.

Behold the day of the examination !!

I woke up at 4 am, and by 5:30 am I was on the ground.

The exam started around 7:00 am

Did I mention that I had a disturbing stomachache prolly from fear but in clear terms I had (agakanzu) ifykyk

I neither had dinner the night before nor breakfast that morning

I was basically surviving on polluted air

Reverse passed

Parking passed

Circulation, hectic but passed

T-cross passed

Drum roll please

The last part

Demarage (which is basically balancing the clutch with the accelerator on a steep hill to make a stop)
The moment you step on the brakes, you step on the way leading you home (without a license, of course)

Well, I also passed the demarage!!!!

Remember my injured left foot was the one holding the clutch

My leg was basically shaking the whole time, but I couldn’t fold under pressure

I had a vision

Now I sound like a cheap ahh motivational speaker

But yeahhh

I’m now a certified professional driver, and my Papa allows me to drive his cars confidently anywhere, anytime.

By myself too!!

He sometimes boosts my ego talking bout ‘you even drive better than me.’

I clocked out of work at 5:04 pm sharp.

Walked out of the main gate, clutching my water bottle in my left hand, while my right hand held my cropped jean coat tightly around my torso—a failed attempt to keep the cold from seeping through.

My only objective was to return the books I’d borrowed from the library, then rush home to my comfy bed. At least that’s what I had planned originally in my mind.

Turns out fate had other plans for me…

Now, before your mind staggers far, the journey to the library was uneventful except for the occasional times my motari tried and failed to start a conversation, because I could hardly hear him over the gushing wind.

That, or the fact that he would turn all the way back, and I wasn’t keen on leaving Earth this soon.

Luckily, we arrived at the Library safe and sound. I paid him and then made my way to the entrance.

5 minutes later, I was on the bike home.

This time, my motari took a different route. One that I wasn’t quite familiar with.

In times like these, I clear my throat profusely, then prepare myself to release a 120db scream

(Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but I don’t joke with my safety)

While desperately calculating how bad my fall would be if I jumped off the bike, the guy increased his speed.

Something about a new tarmac road, or maybe because it was in a residential area with no clear speed limit, made him think we’re in MotoGP racing (a random famous motorcycle racing I just searched on the internet).

Either way, I had to literally beg him to reduce his speed, which he did for a while, then, as if it would get any better, we were stuck in traffic.

Ohh, I forgot to mention, we did come to a familiar route, but now we had to wait in traffic for half an hour. My knees were crying in agony.

It was then that I decided that I didn’t want him to drop me off at home directly, but rather at the bus stop on the main road, then walk home.

Ohh boy, did I make the right decision…

I got off the bike, paid him, and started trailing on the road that leads home.

A great opportunity to get my steps in and rack my mind with anything but the present.

That was until I laid my eyes on him.

The first thing I noticed was his height.

Now, on a good day, I’m 5’5 or 5’6

I could bet on my life savings (okay, that’s extreme, maybe a week’s transport) that he was almost 6’4, in my case, a literal giant.

He was wearing a white and black tracking suit, with a water bottle in his right hand, and he was striding towards me.

I mean, everyone in the opposite direction was, but whatever.

Next, I focused on his face.

He had neatly trimmed hair, almost like a fresh haircut.

He was fair-skinned.

He was well-shaven.

His lips had the perfect shade of pink and plumpness.

His eyes, even though the evening darkness had tried to mask it, held a shimmering gaze. Almost as if he was daring me.

And quite surprisingly, I took on the dare.

I stopped right in front of him. Looked right in his eyes. Extended my right hand to him.

“Hi,” I said faintly. Mentally slapping myself for not sounding as confident as I did in my head.

He smirked,

Took my arm,

Then wrapped it around him, hugging me with both of his arms.

What in the purple hearts is going on? (not sure if it fits the context, but ehh)

I stood there like the Statue of Liberty, except that my arm was wrapped around a man. A stranger.

It didn’t feel uncomfortable, just foreign.

He might have sensed my mind battle, because he broke off the hug just enough to peek at my face, then lowered his own and whispered all so gently, “I’m Trevor.”

His deep voice brought sensations all over my body, and I started laughing, stepping back.

His left hand cupped my chin, his eyes desperately looking for a clue to explain my random outburst, but found none.

“What’s so funny, young lady?” he tried mimicking a British accent, which fueled my laughter.

“I..uh..I’m ticklish.” I managed to say after catching my breath. Then added, “ Btw, I’m Gladys.”

He just stood there looking at me. That intense gaze that makes you wonder if he is actually reading your mind.

There was something in his eyes I couldn’t put my finger on.

Was it admiration? Curiosity? Danger?

Squirming under his gaze, I tried to tease him.

“ Are you going to stand here staring at me, or pursue your initial plans?” Placed a hand on my hip, then raised an eyebrow to emphasize the weight of my question.

“ I’ll show you what I’m going to do,” he replied with a new glint in his eyes.

Before I could figure out his motives, he started tickling my neck, then moved to my waist, yep, and I lost it. (No, I didn’t pee on myself).

My knees became weak, my stomach hurt from laughing, and suddenly I became aware of our surroundings.

We were in the MIDDLE of the road.

He held me tightly with his arm, then continued tickling me with the other mercilessly. I held onto his massive bicep and tried to tickle him, but to no avail.

Atp, I started pleading, “Please, I’ll do anything you want, Trevor, just let me go.”

“Alright, you said anything, huh?” He teasingly asked, allowing me to break free.

I just gave him a side eye, then glanced at my watch briefly, only to realize it was way past my curfew.

He noticed the change in my mood and asked, “What’s wrong?” Deep concern governed his face.

“Uh, I have to go home,” I replied, pursing my lips.

“May I have the honor to escort you, my lady?” There goes that fake British accent again. He even followed it with a light bow of the head and an open hand waiting to hold mine.

Smiling sheepishly, I placed my hand in his, and it stayed that way till we reached my home.

I turned to face him, but he was already staring at me.

I wanted to say something, but he beat me to it.

“Gladys, it may have been coincidental that we met, and I don’t regret it, but…” he trailed off, took hold of my right hand, and brought me a little bit closer to him.

“Would you agree to come on a date I want to plan for us?” His voice dropped an octave and sounded huskier.

How can you say no to that?

Well, I didn’t because none of this happened.

I did pass by him, but neither did I stop nor did he.

We all continued our different paths.

THE END.

Thank you for reading the fantasies in my head😂 But I promise, I’m serious irl🤭

I figured I should write my two cents on it.

In the ancient Rwandan culture, it was deemed that girls had to be virgins for them to have successful marriages. So, on the first night of the wedding, they had to ‘prove’ that she was a virgin.

And you’d think that probably the husband was the one to do the testing, but no, instead it was the father-in-law.

HOW SICK IS THAT???

And it’s obvious that there was no consent on her part whatsoever!!

So the father-in-law had to first ‘test’ the bride the whole night on white sheets, and the groom had to just be outside the room listening.

If the sheets had red blood on them by the morning, then that means she had passed the virginity test, and she could go on to live with her husband.

And if there is no blood, well, they’d put her in ingobyi (a carrier) and return her home and out the door, any dreams of ever getting married again, because everyone knew that she was not a virgin, and she was depicted to be a ‘disgrace’ to the family.

Now, I want to evaluate how this theory is wrong.

It’s not rocket science that women’s bodies are different, and one thing is certain: there is NO physical marker to show that a girl is a virgin.

See, people believe that all women have a hymen, which is very wrong because some of them have very little or none at all, and that’s completely normal.

Additionally, it might even be stretched by everyday activities such as sports and not necessarily by having sex. Which means that it disrupts the whole ‘virginity testing’, hence making it scientifically invalid as reported by the World Health Organization.

Now, the reason why I mentioned hymen, ties to the fact that it’s believed the blood released when a virgin woman has sex for the first time comes from the breakage of the hymen.

This is not entirely true, because the presence of blood could mean a lot of things.

This includes, but is not limited to, a lack of lubrication, which creates more friction, causing small tears in the vaginal tissue.

Secondly, tension/anxiety, when a woman is nervous, her muscles tighten, which also creates more friction.

Lastly, if the man is rough and performs in a rushed manner, then obviously, there will be friction, which might also cause tearing.

Can you see how all these reasons might explain vaginal tearing, whether it’s the first time having sex or not!!

Ladies and gentlemen, let’s not forget how through this sexual intercourse the bride is prone to infections, STDs, and worst case scenario, being impregnated by the father-in-law.

And as the bride was passing through these atrocities, what was expected from the groom? NOTHING!

Nobody cared whether he had slept around or not, and ohh sometimes he could even have a kid somewhere, of course, the bride was unaware of this till the bomb was dropped on her during their time together.

Not to mention that the bride hardly knew anything about the family she was marrying into, not that it would make it any better, but there’s no consideration of whether she actually likes the groom, let alone the father-in-law.

If a girl had premarital sex and she ended up getting pregnant, firstly, her family would disown her, and then she would be stoned to death.

Mind you, these are the same people who believed that killing a person is a sin, but they would brutally kill the mother and the unborn baby due to fornication, as if she got pregnant by herself.

Ohh, and the man she slept with, he remained a well-groomed man, just strolling peacefully, a man who already has “an experience.”

I’m really glad I wasn’t born in that generation, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t have our own dilemmas. Men fetishize virgin women, while they’ve been sleeping around their whole lives.

And the funny thing is, if by chance he gets married to that ‘innocent virgin girl’, he will still cheat on her with other women, which leaves me thinking, are men that insecure of themselves?

Again, while going through Snapchat stories, I stumbled upon an anonymous confession of a guy who was frustrated because a girl, who allegedly slept with the whole neighborhood, refused to sleep with him and instead, asked him if they could go to church together.

Why do men feel entitled to women’s bodies?

Why is it so hard for them to comprehend the meaning of the word NO?

There are many reasons why the girl refused to sleep with him, and frankly enough, that’s NONE of his business.

Last week, I came across a TikTok of a man, supposedly a doctor, who was passionately explaining how, after a man ejaculates in a woman’s vagina, sperm penetrates the wall, and the DNA in the sperm fuses with the DNA of the woman.

He claimed that as a woman sleeps with lots of men, she carries specs of their DNA, and when she decides to get pregnant, the baby’s character and genetics will be shaped by all those men the mother HAD slept with.

His other argument was that there are some couples that start to look alike after years of living together, and that’s because of repeated sexual intercourse, entailing that their DNA has combined, so some of their traits have been passed down to each other.

And he went on to conclude that men should marry virgins, unless they want to have kids that belong to the whole society.

Add to that the biological term he used was microchimerism, as if it could make any of his theories slightly correct. smh

Let’s deconstruct this

The vagina is naturally acidic while semen ( fluid containing sperms) is alkaline, meaning that in the millions of sperms released during ejaculation, only thousands can successfully enter the cervix, and while they can survive in the fallopian tube, from 3-5 days waiting for an egg, when there is no ovulation or the egg is no longer viable, the sperms die within 3-5 days.

As a matter of fact, they are broken down and absorbed by the body’s immune cells. The woman’s immune system recognizes them as foreign cells and destroys them.

Any remaining semen is naturally expelled from the vagina. And if there were no implantation, the uterine lining sheds, resulting in menstruation.

It’s important to note that sperm cells are designed to fertilize egg cells, not somatic (body) cells of the woman, such as the ones in the vaginal wall.

Additionally, the vaginal wall has protective barriers that prevent sperm from penetrating tissue, so in simple sense, the sperm’s DNA can’t fuse with the woman’s DNA, and the woman’s genetic makeup remains unchanged after the sexual intercourse.

Now onto the infamous microchimerism, which happens when the woman is pregnant btw, indicates that a small number of fetal cells (which carry the father’s DNA) can cross into the mother’s bloodstream and embed in her tissues, including her brain, liver, and other organs.

This means that a woman who has been pregnant can carry cells with her partner’s DNA, which may also last decades in her body.

However, it doesn’t imply that her genetic makeup has been changed; rather, the foreign cells with different DNA can coexist in her body.

Hence, all the arguments he made are futile.

Lastly, in weak attempts to console his arguments, he claimed that the resemblance of long-term couples stems from sharing DNA.

This is wrong btw.

As I have explicitly explained above, women can carry their partners’ DNA from pregnancy, but it’s not prone to change her genetic makeup.

However, couples might start to look alike because of the shared lifestyle and environment, and the unconscious mirroring of each other's expressions over a long time.

Not to mention, some people are attracted to those who slightly resemble them, whether in physical appearance or even personality-wise. And this not only appears in couples but also in friendships, which clearly means that resemblance between unrelated people doesn’t entail that there has been a genetic exchange, rather a mix of behavior, and shared life experience.

I’m sorry not sorry for ranting all this🤭, but I had to get it out of my chest—my head actually, and I hope it serves as a reminder that’s it’s THAT deep and just because it was disguised as culture or it has been normalized doesn’t make it right. And lastly, be aware of the information you consume because it could easily misguide you, in the essence of trying to educate yourself.

Before y’all come for me, let me first give you the gist.

A random afternoon in September 2023, I was lying on my bed, cruising through Snapchat stories mindlessly. I’d only stop to steal— well, save funny Snapchat sounds that I would later send in my streaks.

It had been a month since I finished high school, a place I hoped to never encounter again, but that’s a topic for another day.

So, as I began my année blanche (gap year), my main objective was to try new things. And as ironic as that sounds, fate said BET.

Back to that fine afternoon, you see what I did there, yeah, it was fine because of what I laid my eyes on.

*drum roll please

In the midst of story scrolling, I was met with a birthday post that made me sit upright and hold on to the screen because I didn’t want to lose it in the myriad of other stories.

It was that serious.

So I switched on my FBI detective persona and analyzed the picture.

As much as it’s tempting to say that it was L at first sight, it was not.

But he was really attractive.

Not in the way of having muscles, which he also had btw, but in a sense of how his warm smile reached his eyes. The calm aura he held, the one that would be mistaken as being arrogant, but it’s just him moving gently.

Then came his eyes.

In that picture, he wasn’t even staring at the camera, yet I could feel the intensity of his gaze.

Okayy, maybe I’m delulu, but that’s how I felt. The dude could literally flirt with his eyes…

So when I saw the yellow add button on the top right corner, I clicked on it without thinking twice.

Then came the realization.

Goodness, what have I done?

I barely knew the guy.

In the midst of my mind battle, a notification popped up, and right there, I realized that he had added me back.

Was I surprised? Yes

Was I excited? Yes

Did I write to him right away? Also yes.

This defied my nonchalant character, but I didn’t care. Remember, I wanted to try new things.

Before you think that I confessed my feelings in the first message, which I did not, it was just a simple message wishing him a happy birthday.

Something normal and reasonable, right?

In a matter of seconds, the guy had opened and replied to my message.

At this point, my heart was doing little dances; however, as soon as I opened his message, my heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you 🫶” A heart emoji!!

Nonetheless, that’s how our conversation started.

We teased, flirted, and bantered every single day.

He would send me streaks of him cooking pancakes, and I’d gaslight him that it was either undercooked or overcooked.

We talked about our families, our hobbies, our likes and dislikes. I enjoyed it all.

Then one random day, he sent a text. “ When can I see you?”

Ladies and gentlemen, I was struck.

As an introvert, it’s not a regular occurrence for me to go outside. Couple that with a strict parent, and there you have it.

Given how fierce I seemed on text, I was scared that I wouldn’t live up to it in-person.

But before I could answer anything, I had to consult my older sister.

My Papa is strict, and I’d be dead if he found out I was going to meet a boy, even if it’s at a public space.

So instead, I told my older sister, and we devised a plan. So she told our Papa that we are going for an outing together with her friend, who will be traveling abroad (which was a lie too)

Boyyy, the lengths I went to, just to meet youuuu

So, after confirming with my alibi, I opened my phone to respond to him.

So we started suggesting places, and we finally concluded with ice cream at KH.

Of course, that was my suggestion, and he went along with it.

One week prior to our meet-up, ohh I mean date, something else happened.

It was around 6 pm, and I’d gotten a random burst of energy to clean our bathroom. Given that I had a JBL speaker, a phone, and wifi, I said why not, so I went down on it.

In the midst of my scrubbing, my music (Hold You by Gyptian) paused, and I marched towards my ringing phone with annoyance. Who in their right mind interrupts my favorite song? ahhh

As soon as I saw the caller ID, I swiftly slid to answer, and my anger evaporated instantly.

“Gladaaaa” my friend’s voice blasted through the phone’s speaker

“Ouiiiii” I replied with the same intensity, and we just burst out laughing.

She wanted to know if I’m available to pick up my certificate from a school club that we both attended in high school.

I was like, " Say less, just give me 10 min to finish up what I’m doing”.

Then I remembered that she was my neighbour and she knew where I lived, so why was she asking me to meet halfway?

Allas, I didn’t ask her and just assumed she could have been in a rush.

By the time I was done, it was 7 pm, and I called her again to know which part of our neighborhood I should meet her at.

Now you know how different “home clothes” are from “outing clothes.”

Plus, it was just to pick up my certificate, then return home, right?

I didn’t bother to change the funny jumpsuit that seemed to fit me after being washed, only to become loose within 2 minutes of wearing it.

But it was during the night, nobody would see me, right?

WRONG

The moment I saw the person who was right behind my friend, I wished the earth would open up and swallow me right there!! Why me?

The guy—wait, I never gave him a name. For security reasons, let’s call him L.

And L, if you ever come across this, juss know it’s AI

So, L was standing behind my friend. Mind you, we had talked the whole day, and not once did he mention that he would be in my neighborhood.

So I just stood there, looking between my friend and him, and if looks could kill, both of them would have been six feet under.

I asked her why she didn’t tell me, then she said that he wanted it to be a surprise, and it really was a damn surprise, unpleasant because I wasn’t prepared, but well, isn’t that the whole point of a surprise?

Then my friend hit me with “ntago umusuhuza se?” Now I definitely wished to be teleported to the peaceful Mars.

He started walking towards me with that smile, holding a teasing gaze

And I just stood there, still trying to process everything, then he hugged me, then planted a small kiss on my cheek.

If I tell you my cheeks were swelling from blushing, you wouldn’t believe me.

It was a brief hug, a little bit awkward, but just enough to catch his musky scent.

As he pulled out—wait, that sounds funny 😂

As he stepped aside, my senses finally came back, and I could hear my Papa’s voice saying in my mind, " Nta mushyitsi wakirirwa hanze

So I invited them home for a drink, and as we were all walking together, my mind was still rewinding what had just happened. And they were just laughing at me.

So upon reaching home, I realized the grave mistake I made. My whole family—well, it was actually my siblings. They were all home, having dinner.

Since they knew my friend, it was alright, but the issue came when I had to present L to them. Some started snickering, giving each other ‘the look’, and as for me, I was still soaking up the embarrassment.

I served them juice, and accidentally made it too sweet, guys, I was nervous.

Then I sprinted to my room, combed my short hair chap chap, threw on a hoddie and applied a bit of lip gloss.

I rushed back downstairs to find some of my siblings already entertaining them, and then I joined in, but all my sassiness had flown out the window.

So I was just throwing in a giggle here and there.

THEN, my friend had a brilliant idea that we should take pictures (get the sarcasm).

L sat on my left side, a little too close, then draped his arm over my shoulder.

My insides were screaming, but with a little bit of dignity I had, I maintained my cool.

All my 32s were out there in all the pictures, and at times I could see that he was staring at me in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t dare turn my head.

Then I escorted them home, and we took more pictures, still an idea from my friend, very pictureholic.

…..

Behold the day of the ‘date.’

We met on a Monday, typical plans made by unemployed people, except he had a part-time job, and that same day, he had travelled back from the Southern Province, but still made time.

We agreed to meet at 3 pm, and he was punctual.

Trust me, I was ready by 2 pm, but since I had to leave with my sister, she kept on delaying, and I ended up being late by a whole hour.

He was pissed, and I apologized a lot, then his smile came back. phew

We ordered different flavors of ice cream; mine was in a bowl.

I wasn’t up for the game of chasing which side is melting faster, or risk staining my favorite light blue jeans.

L chose a CONE!

He was like that’s how everyone should have their ice cream, then we started bantering on which one is better.

And throughout, I watched discreetly (at least I hope) how skillfully he licked his ice cream subconsiously, while holding eye contact.

So I looked away occasionally.

We finished our ice creams, then he suggested that we should have a drink at a different place.

I agreed, since it was in the building right across from where we were.

Right when we were about to cross the road, he took my hand in his as if it was already meant to be.

As we sat down in that restaurant on the second floor, conversation flowed as if we were 2 long lost childhood friends.

But I still couldn’t look him in the eye, because it felt like he was staring into my soul. So every surrounding thing felt interesting. I’d look at tables, my drink, my nails, ohh my saving grace.

As a videoholic, I would try to secretly film him, and with his sixth sense, he would look up every single time that I brought out my camera.

But I took them nonetheless, for memories, right?

He brought out his phone and told me to give him my hand.

Defensive me was like for what reason?

He didn’t even say anything, just gave me that stare, and my hand moved on its own accord.

Despite the rapid heart palpitations, after taking the picture, I retained my hand in the most natural way possible.

As we finished our drinks, he suggested we should take a walk.

Spending more time with him, why not?

As we walked side by side, his hand found mine again.

Despite it being a chill night, my whole body was erupting in fireworks.

My hands began to sweat, so I slowly moved my hand to my side bag, pretending to look for my lip gloss.

My worst nightmare, you ask?

Leaving home without my lip gloss, or losing one when I go out 😭

My situation was the latter. I knew I brought it with me, yet I couldn’t find it.

So we halted our steps while I rummaged through my bag.

The whole time, I felt his gaze on me, which didn’t ease my anxious body.

The moment I found it, I held it up like a trophy, and as luck would have it, as soon as I opened the lid, it went flying to the garden beside me. We all burst out laughing.

Given the length of the grass and the multitude of ecosystems of the trees, it would have taken us the whole night trying to find it.

I couldn’t risk placing an open lig gloss in my bag, so I had to hold it in my hand all the way.

Whilst applying the lip gloss, L was secretly taking videos of me.

So when I caught him, he started making jokes about my shining forehead.

Which was true as we passed by each street light.

I then realized that I had applied more than enough lip gloss, and now my lips looked as if they were coated in cooking oil.

When I couldn’t find a napkin in my bag…

He urged me to KISS him on the cheek.

He said it so naturally, as if it were the default solution.

As I stood in awe, contemplating whether I should do it or not, my phone rang.

It was my sister. The one with whom we were supposed to be together for an outing.

I looked at him, and he looked at me.

None of us wanted this to end, but it had to.

I picked up the call.

His gaze was so intensely focused on me that I almost forgot what I had to say.

My sister just wanted to check on me, asking about how the date is going. To which I blushed and answered in a low voice that it was amazing.

She told me to take my time, and once we’re done, I should meet her at the restaurant with her friends.

After ending the call, I released my breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Then he looked at me expectantly.

So I told him what my sister said, minus the inquiry about the date.

He gave me that smile and said, “So what was amazing then?”

“Huh?” I replied, acting oblivious to what he just said.

But my cheeks were a dead giveaway. With their hotness, you could fry a whole plate of plantain, eh

All of a sudden, a dog came barking at us.

Fellas, I have dogphobia.

In one second, I had flown in the middle of the road, but he gracefully held my arm, talking about, " You’ll get hit by a car”. But that was the least of my worries.

Since the dog was on a leash, the owner reared it to the other side, and we were again free to walk on the sidewalk.

In the midst of all these hurdles, I realized that my hand was resting on HIS bicep.

It was literally on porte Chérie, which was way better than holding hands.

So I never bothered to change that, and he seemed to like it better too ☺️

He then asked me why I was scared of dogs, and then I started yapping about my not-so-great encounter with them, which earned me a good, genuine laugh from him.

He then told me of his own experience, which was even funnier; I had to stop to catch my breath.

Then our conversation ventured to other peak embarrassing memories, and not once did I care that it was almost 11 pm, or that any paparazzi family member might see me.

All I could think about was, I don’t want this to end :(

Anywho, like every other time, all good things must come to an end.

He negotiated prices with the motari, and I just stood there taking more videos of him.

Savoring the moment.

*I really want to share them, but yeahhh security reasons :)

We said our goodbyes,

hugged a little longer,

then he planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

You know those butterflies they talk about in books, yes, I felt every species of them erupting in my stomach.

“Let me know when you meet your sister,” he said to me as I was putting on the helmet.

“Sure,” I replied, smiling sheepishly, getting on the bike.

As soon as I sent him the streak of my sister and her friends, our conversations resumed,

even when I got home at 2 AM,

Our last goodbyes were said at 4 AM

If you’ve read up to this point, you might be wondering where the hell it went wrong…

I blocked him.

We didn’t have any disagreements.

There was no explanation.

I just woke up and blocked him.

The reason why, you might ask?

I was scared.

I had all these foreign feelings in me that I couldn’t shake off.

I didn’t want to admit that I like him.

I was scared of what might come out of it.

So I plucked out the seed before giving it a chance to grow.

That was the end of it.

I used to dread the day that I would meet him again.

Would we go on acting as strangers?

Would he give me space and time to revisit the past?

How would I even explain it?

Good for me, that day has not yet arrived, or maybe it won’t.

But if it ever happens, I have the slightest idea of what I would say.

Thank you for reading!! 🫶

And Papa, if you ever see this, just know it was AI, okay 😂

The day I turned 20 was a harsh truth about the adulthood I was stepping into. I have always loved celebrating my birthdays, be it with my friends (during my school years) or my family, or even both, but that particular day, I could hardly believe that it was my actual birthday.

Trust me, I had planned 2 weeks prior how it would go, I had a list of my girl friends to invite for a simple picnic I would host at home, the type of snacks I would prepare, the outfits (floral dresses) we would wear, how the conversations would go, the games we’d play, and to seal it, the candid pictures we’d take. And you would think, my birthday being on a Saturday would be the cherry on top, right?

Well, that’s what I thought too, but I suppose fate had its own way. One week before my birthday, I got a job to work at a call center. I was super happy because it was my first job, AT 19!! Chance ou Malchance, qui peut le dire? (Good Luck or Bad Luck, who can say?)

Being pumped was an understatement; I was a newbie, and my colleagues were young, so it wasn’t hard to make friends. Two days later, they gave me my schedule, and my eyes immediately shot to 29th June (the date of my birthday), and I was met with disappointment because I’d been scheduled to work from 9 am - 6 pm, and the sad part is I couldn’t change it. There’s something so humbling when you realize that you’ve spent a lot of time planning, visualising something only for it to become non-existent. Gone were the dreams of hosting a picnic, so I never bothered to mention it to my friends. My friends tried to organise something, but I wasn’t available both days of the weekend, and it just ended up being “I’m available at this time, but you won’t be available and vice versa,” and that’s when it hit me. Adulthood had begun.

Fast forward to THAT Saturday, I woke up to lots of birthday messages from my friends, family, and those who tried to happy birthday back into my life. It made me happy, but didn’t change the fact that I had to WORK that day. What gave me strength was the reminder that I actually prayed for that job.

I spent quite a considerable amount of time replying to the heartfelt messages, reposting, and answering calls (from work), and by the end of it all, I WAS exhausted.

All the hype from the morning had vanished, and the only thing I wanted to do was to sleep in my comfy bed. By 5: 57 pm, I had already logged off, and by 6 pm, I was on a bike, evening dreaming of the sleep I was going to take because I kid you not, I had work on Sunday too, talk about the joys of employment. Reaching home, my siblings wished me a happy birthday, and I thought that was the end of it, so I went to my room, but turns out they had different plans.

Minutes later, I was called to the living room, and there I found all of my siblings and some cousins lined up in a semi-circle, singing their lungs out, with questionable rhythm, cakes, biscuits, drinks, and my all-time favorite KFC on the table.

You know that moment when your body is filled with warmth, you’re trying to take everything in and hopefully save it to your memory forever? That was exactly how I felt. A sweet reminder that there might be a rainbow after a storm. In times when I disregarded my own celebration due to various hurdles, my family was there to insist on celebrating me! And for that, my 20th Birthday ended blissfully!

The year itself is another mystery

Ohh, and below is the list of 20 things I’ve learnt after spending two decades on Earth

1. Life is what you make out of it

   We are bound to have ups and downs, but having a strong mindset could really take you far. Stop making yourself a victim for everything and start taking accountability for your actions

2. Sometimes you have to accept that things are out of your control, and the only thing to do is control your reaction towards them

   You could plan everything down to the nitty-gritty, but it doesn’t guarantee that it will go according to plan. You can give it your all, but it doesn’t guarantee that you will get what you want. So when it all goes south, the only thing you can adjust is how you perceive it.

3. Don’t be scared to go after what you want

   This ties down to the limiting beliefs. What you’ve been introduced to is not the only thing you are capable of doing! Challenge yourself, if it works out, then great, if it doesn’t, your bravery gave you the experience, and you won’t have to live with the ‘what ifs’

4. Don’t be scared to quit when you‘re not aligned

   On the topic of jobs, there are two sides to it: when you’ve become too comfortable, and there’s no growth, or when the environment is toxic, but of course, this can’t be done in naivety. You need to have enough savings or preferably another job on the line. This can also apply to relationships and friendships.

5. It’s okay for friends to grow apart, not because there were disagreements

   It’s obvious that as we grow, we change. Not only in our appearances, but in our values, interests, goals, lifestyles, and much more. You’ll start to notice that you’re no longer close with some people, and that’s okay.

6. Celebrate all of your milestones

   You don’t have to wait for grand achievements; it could be as simple as finishing a task that you’ve been putting on hold, finally having the conversation that you were dreading, or giving yourself a chance to try something new.

   As a matter of fact, throw yourself a party (laughing in brokenness), but seriously, you need to recognize the efforts that you put in, the sacrifices you make, and the joy of your outcomes.

7. Show up for others

   With the rise of individualism, we are inclined to always look out for ourselves, but we fail to understand that we are ALWAYS going to need people. So how do you manage that when you don’t have a village? How do you long for a village if you don’t want to become one?

8. Don’t be afraid to start again

   Think of it like a second chance, but now you have the experience of one of the pathways

9. From time to time, shake your hips, relieve that trauma

   I’m not sure if this information is accurate, but I’m certain about the way my mood brightens whenever I sway my hips to konpa or kompa songs.

10. Take some time to understand yourself, your emotions, and filter your thoughts

    In a world filled with lots of information, you might find yourself overwhelmed with contradicting opinions, and it’s your responsibility to take some time and learn about yourself without outside bias, and definitely touch some grass.

11. Stop comparing yourself to others

    Read that again. While it’s good to look up to people who inspire you, it’s crucial to know that you’re not destined to live the same way. You can admire someone’s hard work and determination, and incorporate it into your life too, but don’t beat yourself up for not driving a Rolls-Royce like them.

12. Make a list of things you’re proud of yourself for, to use when you're doubting your worth

    At times when we are faced with difficulties in life, we deem ourselves as incapable and forget all of the great things we have achieved, which shouldn’t be the case at all. Having a list of your achievements could be a reference point to regain your strength when you’re down.

13. REST. REST. REST

    First of all, we are not machines; heck, even machines shut down, and they need to be recharged and maintained from time to time. Respect your health, and it will pour into you.

14. Trust your intuition (atleast 90% of it is right)

    You know that feeling when you know something is not right, you have this gut-wrenching feeling in your stomach, the hairs on your neck rise up, goosebumps appear all over your body? ACT ON IT!! It’s better to be safe and wrong than to be right and dead.

15. Love yourself

    Take some time to pour into yourself, be obsessed with your own potential.

16. Money does make your life better, but it shouldn’t dictate your life

    Money might not be the most important thing in your life, but it surely affects other important things in your life.

17. Sometimes it’s better to let go

    For your own peace of mind, learn to let go. Comfort shouldn’t be at the expense of destruction.

18. Take pictures and videos, lots of them

    What was once a moment will turn into a memory, so what happens when your brain erases it, and there are no pictures or videos of its existence at all? In my case, I don’t regret opening the 6th Gmail for my robust gallery.

19. Know your personality

    Now that I think about it, you can have more than one, depending on what works in varying situations. Learning your patterns allows you to recognize your biases and their influence when making a decision. This is where you should be open to learning, unlearning, and relearning.

20. Give yourself grace

    At the end of the day, free yourself from the guilt and the blame for what happened out of your control. Give yourself flowers for your efforts. Validate your emotions and move on with life.

A bonus for my upcoming birthday. PS it’s in 2 months :)

21. Learn to leave people where they are. When people show themselves to you, believe them

    You often hear that you can’t change a person, and while it’s true, most people prefer to feed their delusions, thinking they’ll be the exception. I’ll hold your hand when I say this: you are NOT the exception. If you’ve expressed your concerns, but they refuse to change, and you’re certain that you won’t compromise for it, I don’t know what else you’re waiting for.

*Heavy Sigh

Everything I wrote here came from my experience, and you might have varying opinions about it. If it helps you in any way, I’m glad it did. But if it doesn’t resonate with you, it’s okay, thank you for reading too :)

Every time you procrastinate, every time you shrink yourself, every time you ignore your own needs, you deprive yourself of something valuable. Every time we fail to take accountability, the blame is shifted to someone else or something else—and funny enough, it doesn’t make your heart feel any lighter. Is that really the case, or are we simply trying to make ourselves feel a little less guilty about the situation?

We consume so much information that we sometimes forget we have our own voices. Listen to me: it’s up to you to make that choice. Notice how I didn’t say the right choice—because we are all different. What feels right to you depends on your values and norms, childhood experiences, lifestyle, cultural expectations, societal pressures, legal frameworks, and your own personal opinions.

What you must keep in mind is this: for every choice you make, be prepared to accept its consequences. As my physics teacher used to say, every action has a reaction.