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My second year as a farmer

Today I harvested some vegetables for a friend As the farm greens to near black and the harvest is only a month or two away, I forget that it was all tiresome to do this. The digging, weeding, fear for destructive rain or sun – and moles. Moles ate up lots of my cassava. You will be seeing the stems look tall and promising – a lie. Some wind will blow and it will be down. Only a root supplying water. Beneath there is nothing. The little devil is somewhere else, eating up sweet potatoes tubers. I can now trap them. Though for what? Had they had an economical benefit the better. But to wait and see a sinking maize stalk, bean plant, kale or pawpaw stem – everything you plant the mole wants to partake. Were they disciplined I would have saved some farm produce. But it eats little sugarcane offshoots! Does not care about tomorrow. With more you can give out. I have mom who always asks what is there. She comes and harvests sweet potatoes, uproots mito and mutele, plucks zimboga and li

Single Mother by Erratic Behaviour

Over 70% of single parents in Kenya are females. Now that this article is written by a man, expect it to be skewed. He should have been a woman? Or the woman the man so that the 30% was women’s? Nah, a matter is a matter, let us pick it from where it is as well as where we are. Where it should be and where we can be is only increasing the variable stretch, a blind chase for perfection. So we speculate as we look at the sure real narrow points. 

What makes a woman the vagabond is her sexual form. If the relationship gets sour before she gives birth, she is already the one with the child. Blame the separation on the man, call him whatever names, it is the woman going away pregnant. Blame the woman now, belittle her as she is, she is with the stomach. A child is born away from the father. 

pic; 'female symbol' 

A talk might ensue forth – the father has neglected the child. He did not send money during pregnancy, he never bought the first baby-wrap towel, and he did not follow up to know if the child has been born alive or dead. Huh! When his phone calls were being ignored? He should have sent money without being talked to, perhaps. 

Ego games. He does not want to feel directed. She does not want to submit to such an authority. She looks at him as an equal, he looks at her as his helper, he the leader. You do not love me, I can see it in your actions, she says. I left to fend for myself, you bad man. Yes, she cannot fend for all. Evolution has not touched that nerve of hers yet. 

He refused you boy, he refused you girl that is the indoctrination. I am the one providing for you, you can see. Taking you to school, giving you food and allowing you to kiss me. Men are not good people my boy, my girl, but you – you – you I am sure as you grow, you will be different. But mama, mama, the child is grown to teen, where and who is my father. Did I drop? See, you are a good mom but not a perfect mom. 

It is 12 years after the first man refused to Cinderella her. A second man may have failed short too. How many other men have been into her between is a long count. She has eaten lots of humble pies trying to fend for herself and the child(ren). The men she wishes asked her to be the wife are established. No young boy would, perhaps in the gallows. Her first erratic ‘you do not love me’ girlily mentality is no longer with her. 

The child is pressurized to grow up quickly and fend for the mother. Does she not look at the son as her husband now? Hasn’t the son felt all the trauma in the world to be raised by a helpless mother? He is going to work hard and make a life for the mother – when? The cycle is nigh. He has a girlfriend that he loves now, though he is young to marry. He will try to court her, show her love, that father-less girl who has heard it all about men, their bad. The tough is yet to get started. 

No one tries, no one asks for forgiveness, no one forgives. 


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