Maize flour shortage

I walk into the supermarket and find it full of people  with a queue winding all the way to the back. This is new, I never expect traffic anywhere in this small town, whether in the shop, markets, hotels even on the roads, the beauty of small town life.

Then I notice that everyone on the queue is carrying one specific commodity, maize flour. As I squeeze past them a loud voice comes from the entrance. “Pick only one packet of 2kg maize floor unless you are purchasing other commodities” The shoppers curse as they bend down to look at the large number of packets filling their shopping baskets, and suddenly the joyful smiles on their faces turn to frawns of sadness and anger.

This has been the situation for many weeks passed and still continues. Ugali is the staple food for the majority of Kenyans and so maize and maize flour the most sorted after commodity. But its supply has been way below it’s demand, and the prices high to the roof. 

So what happened to our most produced agricultural produce, maize. Many theories abound. Some say the traders bought all the maize from farmers and hoarded to cause an artificail shortage in order to hike the prices making huge profits. 

Others say the maize production was really low last season something that always happens during the election year,, like some curse from the gods.

Or maybe poor governance.

The government came in to help by ‘importing maize from Mexico’ milling it and selling the flour at a cheaper price. Ksh.90/= from ksh.170. Shop owners have been warned not to sell at any other price and this rule has been enforced by having under cover government officials buying the flour from shops as pretend customers. Those caught are persecuted and pay huge fines.

But the commodity is still under stocked since the government sells to traders at the same price they expect them to sell at, most avoid non profitable business. That’s why the owner of the supermarket asked buyers to take one unless they were buying other profit making commodities. 

I had gone to purchase spaghetti and soap, maize floor was not in my budget but since I stumbled on it, I picked two packets which I know will serve me and my son for a month. I would have taken more but I had to be considerate of others. 

Lovers of ugali are not gonna be voting for the current government come August, they view the shortage as result of poor governance.

Trace- Should I or should I not

I love daily prompts coz they make me write on issues that I would otherwise not.

So who do I want to trace today????

I lost my birth certificate, the one my mum got me before I joined highschool, and I am happy it got lost. In the place for my Father’s name it had been written… xxxxxxxxx. Really.xxxx gave birth to me. That’s me, never saw or ever heard my father being mentioned in all my childhood.

When my mum died, was just out of high school and as we were going through her stuff my siblings and I, collecting documents that belonged to each one of us, we came across my immunization/ postnatal care card. My sister read my father’s name aloud W.J, …will use initials. One of my aunts went like ” He used to be called like that”

My heart skipped a beat

That’s the first time I heard the mention of my father, at least then I knew I was birthed by a human with a name not an xxxx. I would trace him once I was done burying my mum.

During my mum’s burial, my grand pa took me by the hand and we walked to one of my grand uncles, his brother In-law and he asked him. ” Where is this girl’s father”

“He died long time ago” came his reply. He said it like it was nothing. Little did he know just how heartbroken his answer made me. That was the day I buried both my parents, one that I had lived with all my life and one that I had never met.

He lived in my hopes, had planned on looking for him once I was old enough to take care of myself. I know you are wondering why I never asked my mum about him. This was a forbidden topic. Even when I saw the XXX in my cert I never raised the question, I was grateful for the good life that she was providing and was hoping that one day when I get old enough she would tell me. She died with all that information, one of the reasons why I keep a journal.

But at least now my new birth certificate contains my father’s name at its rightful place. I still hold the hope of tracing his family- my family some day. Would like to know more about him, the kind of person he was and if I inherited any personality traits from him.

Am I incomplete as a person coz I know nothing (apart from name and that he’s dead) about the other person that contributed to my gaining life?  Would it make any difference to me if  I trace his/ my family and get to have a relationship with them?

I did shed a few tears when writing this, maybe the answers to the questions above is yes.

I will trace them some day.

Buff up

Will be attending a friends wedding this Saturday, it will be the first time I visit Nairobi after I moved out to this small town a month ago. Looking forward to seeing my friends again and show them just how good the small town life has been to me.

How do I do that. Buff up.

For two weeks now I have been exersing every morning like my life depends on it, it actually does but this is done for other reasons.

In most villages this one included, fat people are considered rich. (The Swahili word for fat isn’t offensive) Actually when someone tells you that you have grown  fat, its a complement, you say thankyou.

I promise not to be corrupted by that village mentality.

I love my body cellulite less. So I have been working my arms and abs and its kinda showing good results, though I need to put in more effort. And I am already loving the reflection of me in the mirror which I check everytime before and after showers.

Yesterday I tried on two of my dresses that I plan on wearing during the wedding. They fit just perfectly. Can’t wait to show off my buffed up self to everyone.

Will share the photos…maybe.

Choices

              To make a choice or not to

         It’s still a choice

Right, left or stay put!

         Why hard to decide?

                 We are judged by our choices

                             Informed or not

                   The consequences we suffer.

         Forced or coaxed

Its our choice

           To live with it we must.

                       Do I stop life? live afraid?

                                    Or just make the choice

                         To enjoy or regret later

             Life is all about a Choices

 Stop living or make a choice

That’s still a choice.

Fast love

Yesterday was one of those days. I woke up took a shower dressed up and just when I got at the door I changed my mind and sat on the couch.. all day long.

By evening I was bored to my skin not even watching a movie would save me. I called a friend and asked him to give me a subject to write on.

He took me years back, thirteen to be precise. He told me to write about my first love. I wasn’t sure if I should write about how it felt then or how I feel about it now. Maybe I should do both.

I remember the dust

He came to me in August

They say the first cut is the deepest

I tried to get more words but lol nothing came. Why can’t I write about something that I felt so strongly about. Then I remembered, the feelings were real but the person was never.

The one thing that he said that was true about himself was his name. The rest was a made up person that he knew I would fall for. And to think I wasted my first innocent self on that!!!! Why would the world be so unfair to me.

And when my son tells a lie, I see his dad and just wanna slap him to oblivion.

Save some girl from the misery I have been through.

I do not mean having my son makes me miserable. No. I wish I had him with the right person, he could have the life he’s always wanted. To have both his parents with him raising him. I was brought up by a single mum myself, never would I wish my child to miss out on being raised by his dad.

But you can never know where you stand with a liar. Even today I can never tale if what he says is the truth or a lie. Am not talking about a small lie like am in town when actually I am just getting out of bed (still that is a tale tale sign of a liar)

Am talking about a seasoned confident manipulator. Every story is made up even the truth is exaggerated to make up for some inadequacy in education and social status.

If I give you ten minutes with him, you’ll fall  in love with him. And wonder why I left such a wonderful person coz he’s got a smooth tongue. Everywhere he goes people love him, he would do very well in politics.

Only when you’ve had a baby with him and staying together then you start to unravel the truth piece by piece. Then it hits you, girl you’ve been building your dreams on rotting garbage. Run before it crambles.

That’s what I did.

Next time friend, don’t ask me to write about my first love. I do not know what that feels like. What I had was an illusion.