Random Thoughts of a Girl in Nairobi

Book Review: The Kite runner by Khaled Housseini

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Fri, 05 Oct 2018 09:40:00 +0000

This was my favourite line from this book. The quote that set the mood. The point at which I sat down and went 'oh snap!'. I took longer than I should have while reading this book. Which is a polite way of saying that I was distracted by the two other books I was also reading at the time.

This book was an insightful look into Afghani culture. When you've live in this part of the world and you've grown up with terrorism and Al-Qaeda as part of daily news, it's easy to think of the country as this god-forsaken place full of murder, refugees and patriarchy. You don't think of the people or the families or the culture. You don't think of the massive humanitarian crisis being faced on a daily basis. The details don't even occur to you. And I can relate to that as an African in 21st century Kenya fighting against the stereotypes about the continent that have been propagated by decades of Western sensationalist reporting.

This is a story about two boys who are such good friends that they consider each other brothers (Those who've read the book see what I did there). One of them (Amir) however betrays the other (Hassan) in the worst way possible by being too afraid to stand-up for him. Sure he was just a kid but his choice ends up having far-reaching consequences. The kind that affects future generations. And he (Amir) lives with that guilt for years and years. The memory lingering in his dreams and gnawing at his conscience. He was a coward who eventually faces-up to his fears once and for all and finds redemption. But fair warning, the road to bravery is paved with bruises and broken bones.

I feel like this is Khaled's most dramatic book. 'And the mountains echoed' and 'A thousand splendid suns had pretty straight-forward storylines. But there are twists in here that you just don't see coming. So if you like Khaled Housseini and are a fan of his work, read on! And if you're feeling embarrassed for not having already read this after all these years of hype, you should probably go ahead and check-it off your budget list. You're in good company... I promise.

Ciao...

Book Review: When breath becomes air by Paul Kalanithi

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Thu, 31 May 2018 05:39:00 +0000

I heard about this book about two years back and promised myself I wouldn’t read it. It felt a bit morbid for me to be reading about a 36-year old doctor who had just been diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. I'd seen more than enough young cancer patients as a me med-student and I felt that it was just too close to home considering my chosen career path. Even my mom did a double-take when she saw that I was reading a book about death and dying. But apparently something changed in my perspective over the past two years and now I’m here on the other side of the epilogue. Let’s just call it life.

I’ve written about med-student syndrome in posts before and the bad news is that it doesn’t get any better once you’re a real doctor. If anything, the experience you garner makes it worse. A friend of mine had a persistent headache for two days last week with no other symptoms. It was probably stress-induced or something but in the back of our minds as doctor-friends we were trying to rule out more sinister causes.

Paul paints a pretty good picture about what it means to be a patient who’s also a doctor. You already know most of the facts and the legitimate websites to get some more so you can fill-in the blanks. You’re already thinking worst-case scenario as you consider treatment options. You self-medicate, panic and sometimes underestimate. You try to drive and be the passenger all at the same time. And after internship I can now attest to the fact that medics suck at being patients!

The flipside is being a doctor with a loved-one who’s the patient. Everyone handles it differently. You’re advised against treating them yourself because objectivity might be an issue. You have deeper and bigger questions about your patient’s progress. At some point while interacting with said loved-one’s primary doctor you toe the line between colleague and concerned loved-one and that means that you might end-up stepping on some toes.

I felt challenged by his story. The man studied philosophy and literature for years in a bid to understand life and death and finally settled on medicine as the way to find an answer. And not just any field of medicine: Neurosurgery. Well, that’s one way to find a calling! He talks about being in med-school and going through internship and residency and being a doctor and I relate to that so much because I’ve lived 75% of that! (Is this how lawyers feel when they read John Grisham?)
And then he talks about receiving a damning diagnosis at the cusp of greatness and the peak of his youth and how he dealt with that; and that’s incredibly powerful.

So here I am, rating this 10/10. Read this book and then share it with a friend.
Ciao…

Foodie Fridays: Reddish-Velvet Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Fri, 25 May 2018 08:48:00 +0000

What on earth is reddish velvet cake? It's what happens when the chef gets a little too enthusiastic when adding cocoa powder to a red-velvet cake recipe. But I think what's important is that the cake turned out great...especially considering the fact that I totally abandoned the recipe and went with my gut feeling and what the ancestors told me to do.

I made this cake for a friend's birthday and it's honestly the biggest cake I've made to-date. I used two 12x9 inch rectangular cake tins. So now I can check that off my bucket list.

I've also been promising several friends that I'd sit down and start sharing my cake recipes so here goes. When I eventually find the right balance of cocoa powder to everything else and make an actual 'red-velvet cake' I'll be sure to do a follow-up post. But for now, …

Ingredients

For the cake:

4 cups self-raising flour

1 cup cocoa powder

1 teaspoon instant coffee (for flavour enhancement)

1½ cups of sugar

1 cup melted butter

6 eggs

2 tablespoons of baking powder

1 tablespoon vanilla essence

Red food colour

1 cup of milk

For the butter icing:

½ cup melted butter

500 gm icing sugar

¼ cup of milk

Chocolate syrup

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees.

2. Sieve the flour and cocoa powder together in a bowl. Add the baking powder on top.

3. In another bowl combine butter, eggs, sugar and vanilla essence. Cream together. Add red food colour and mix well.

4. Add the egg mixture to the flour and gently fold-in, adding milk as required until you achieve a dropping consistency.

5. Pour batter into greased cake tins and bake at 200 degrees for about 30 minutes.

6. Once cake is ready, lay on a wire rack to cool.

7. Whisk the butter rapidly for about 2 minutes then gradually add in icing sugar and a bit of milk until you achieve a soft creamy consistency.

8. Once cake is cool, Ice as desired.

Bon Appetit!

Book Review: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Mon, 21 May 2018 20:10:00 +0000

This is a book about book-burning. A contradiction? Yes, I know. Part of what the Nazis did to spread their propaganda was to systematically burn books that conflicted with their message. And I have to say, it was a pretty solid strategy. Control all the information and lull the population into complacency…and then how will they ever contradict you if they don’t have any basis on which to form their contradictions.

As a species we rely so much on what the ones who came before us. It’s how we learn things and it’s how we’re able to invent things. It’s how we solve problems, correct mistakes and hopefully prevent them too. We’d never have come up with a treatment for malaria if someone hadn’t written down what they’d witnessed the Native Americans doing with the bark of the Cinchona tree. We’d never have come up with medical research ethics if the doctors at Tuskegee hadn’t kept records of how they performed horrific syphilis experiments on people of colour. As Kenyans we would probably have outgrown our petty tribal biases and stopped voting for the same-old dynasties by now if we’d really been able to read our history.

I like science fiction. Especially science fiction that was written before the 90s because a lot of the authors wittingly or unwittingly try to predict certain technological advances and it’s fun to see just how many of them were on the right track. Ray Bradbury was definitely on the right track with his talk of ear-pieces and hand-held TVs and a society so glued to their screens that they’re unable to see the wrongs being committed right outside their doorsteps. Sometimes I felt judged by this book because of things that would happen and I would be like ‘that’s so me!’ Fair warning, this guy uses metaphors and imagery a lot; which is both brilliant and slightly confusing if you’re not paying too much attention. But once the story takes off, you can’t help but settle in for the ride.

All in all I found it a chillingly realistic cautionary tale especially in this information-driven age where the narrative is based on what most people think it is. Knowledge is power; ask Cambridge Analytica.

Ciao…

Is this what a quarter-life crisis feels like?

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 15 May 2018 21:32:00 +0000

I haven’t written anything in months. Forget half baked-drafts shoved into my laptop’s archives to maybe someday see the light of day. Forget sentences started and typed mid-way only to be hastily erased. I haven’t written anything in months, except that one book review last month when I was essentially performing CPR on my creative side. I haven’t written anything in months and I’m still trying to figure-out why.

Part of it is probably the fact that this internship is very involving. Fine, that’s more than an understatement. If I’m not working, then I’m sleeping. Or reading. Or watching a quarter of a movie that will take me 4 days to finish. Or responding to texts hours or days too late. (I’m going to take a moment now to apologise to everyone I ever gave grief about being a bad texter when I was in med school because I was running on student-time and you were trying to adult! I have become a bad-texter).

I’m heading towards the end of what’s supposed to be the most punishing time in my medical career so at least there’s light at the end of the tunnel. And with each step I take the light gets brighter and brighter; blinding with possibilities. Getting a job post-internship…applying for residency…so much darn COMMITMENT! I miss the days when my future was a 12-step programme that I didn’t even have to think about. Because these are all such big things with a degree of indelibleness if not permanence to them! And I haven’t even touched on the social aspects of my life. Friends and family going through life and my role in that. Adulting is hard!!! Don’t do it kids!

Turns out that adulting requires a lot more energy than previously advertised. Some days I walk on egg-shells because I realise that I’m actually shaping the direction my life should take and I’m terrified that I’m messing it up. Some days I want to go back to a time when I didn’t have to think about what’s next…or saving and financial planning…or taxes!

But I have good days too. Days when I eat a healthy meal, and go for a run, and check on people and respond to texts on time. Days when I read a little more of that book I posted on Instagram, days when I bake and forget to document the process. It’s growing pains and change and learning how to do things you’ve never done before. It’s falling down and getting back up. It’s bursting into tears for no reason at all. It’s sitting in bed cocooned like a marshmallow and eating two entire bars of chocolate. It's praying and relying on someone other than yourself.

And maybe that’s ok.

Ciao…

Photocredit: asharpeye.com

Book review: Born a crime by Trevor Noah

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 10 Apr 2018 12:47:00 +0000

I admit that I was late to the Trevor Noah comedy train. Years ago, when everyone I knew was ranting and raving about him I held back because I wasn’t all that into stand-up comedy and I was trying to resist peer pressure. Honestly, It’s the little things in life. But, when I eventually decided to give him a chance, man I was hooked. The man is HILARIOUS! And when he announced he was writing a book, I was all-in!

You know the hashtag #GrowingUpAfrican ? This book comprises every single meme posted about it; and then some. In a single chapter I’d go from uncontrollable laughter when he described ‘African-mom’ dynamics to cringing when he talked about the realities of growing-up during apartheid. One of the things I’m unlearning as an African millennial (Yes, I’m not ashamed of the fact that I was born after the internet was invented) is the history we were taught in school. I read books like ‘Mine boy’ and I crammed the facts but there was a kind of detachment in the way we were taught about colonialism and the post-colonial period. Important details were left out and complicated historical figures were canonized, for lack of a better word. So now as an adult I have a whole different outlook. But maybe that’s a post for another day.

This book was an easy read because you feel like you’re sitting right next to him as he’s telling you these incredible stories about his childhood and you want to go like “That’s so true!”, “I can relate!”. Or “No way!”. And then he throws in snippets of South African history in all the right places. So, it was both entertaining and educational. Win-win!

And can we talk about the cover-art for a second. I have revealed in previous posts that I’m a sucker for a pretty book cover and this one definitely passed the test.

So, if you’re looking for a good laugh with a dash of ‘wokeness’, this is probably your next read.

Ciao…

Photocredits: Goodreads.com

Be careful what you wish for

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 19 Dec 2017 09:50:00 +0000

I have been learning this recently. It’s so easy to look at the finished product of a process and not appreciate what it took to get there. To forget the cost. To assume that it was easy. In our Christian walk we often ask God to ‘mould’ us in His image. We pray for growth and strength and change. But we don’t always think about what that entails. Being moulded means being broken down into the most basic form and then being remade in the image of the artist. The substance is pounded and squeezed and pressed and contorted in new ways until it bends to the will of the moulder. It’s all fun and games until you realize that you’re the clay. And life is squeezing you and crushing you in so many directions and you look up at heaven and ask God if He forgot your agreement. You say that He’s taking too long to give you the things you asked for yet you also asked to be more patient.

And in the moment, you can’t see where things are going and what the final outcome is supposed to be. Your life just sucks and that’s the biggest thing you perceive. And I don’t blame you. You can’t see a 3D picture with only 2D vision. But I find that when I’m in the thick of things and nothing makes sense He reminds me to pause and breathe because He’s doing something. And there’s a comfort in that. To be assured that no matter how tough things get He’s still there and He’s still God and things will make sense at some point.

So does that mean that we should stop asking for God to make us better and improve us and help us get over habits and patterns? Absolutely not! It’s a noble thing to ask for and what person wouldn’t want to move from level 1 to level 2 if they knew they could?

It just means that we should be prepared for it to be uncomfortable and even painful at times. Things and people rarely change their nature easily and without giving up a fight. Water has to be heated to 100 degrees before it turns to steam (depending on what altitude you’re at). It takes real effort, trust and obedience. But please hang in there and keep your eyes on the prize. He’s with you all the way.

Ciao…

Photocredits: http://thecreativediaries.blogspot.co.ke

I’m finally a doctor, now what?!

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Sun, 09 Jul 2017 20:06:00 +0000

It’s officially 7 months post-graduation. The gifts and congratulations have stopped rolling in. Not that that was the focus of my attention. Man, I was just glad to be done with med school. Now I get to annoy my friends by wistfully saying things like, “When I was in campus…” or “when I was a student…” As if that was a million years ago.

That heady euphoria is long-gone and replaced by a different kind of euphoria. I’ve been working and doing actual doctor things for the past 6 weeks and it’s surreal at times. It’s also really exciting. There are aspects of internship that I was prepared for and others that I heavily underestimated. Some things I just did not see coming. It’s been a learning curve though and the good thing is that I work somewhere where everybody is willing to teach. So I’ll highlight some of the things I’ve learned and experienced so far:

1. You become someone’s boss.

It is day 1 and you’re still trying to remember where the bathroom is but you are also technically supposed to be giving the nurses and clinical officer interns instructions. Someone goes like, “Daktari what would you advise?” And you’re just standing there frantically trying to remember what Medscape says you should do.

2. Yes it is possible to work for 36 hours straight on just 2 hours of sleep

My first call was kind of scary. I knew that I’d have help but I was worried about whether or not I’d be able to figure-out what was wrong with the patients and what to do for them after all those years of med-school. I was worried that my clinical skills were rusty. I was also excited at the prospect of doing the real thing.

I was woken up at 2 am for a patient in the High dependency unit who was deteriorating. It’s the kind of phone call that floods your system with so much adrenaline that you find yourself instantly awake and moving. I didn’t hesitate to call my senior because I’d rather ask for help than potentially endanger a patient’s life with false bravado. I also wasn’t sure what I’d be walking into. My senior was really nice about it and we walked to the hospital together (we happened to be living in the same house at the time). We saw the patient and made a decision concerning management and stood there till it was done and the patient showed signs of improvement. I went back to bed at 3am and woke up at 5am to start a brand new day (a very long day) that ended at 5pm.

3. Coffee is essential

Some call-nights are calm and I sleep like a baby all the way till morning. Others have me constantly walking up and down the hospital corridors until I find myself in the next morning and all I can do is run on coffee and good intentions. You get bonus points for owning a travel mug.

4. Sleep when you can

After a call, before a call. During a call that seems to not have much going on. Especially if you’re not particularly assured of the next time you’ll get a good-nights rest.

5. Use free time to do fun things.

I’m constantly learning and re-learning and sharpening skills. Work hours can get crazy. So if you have an opportunity to unwind, take it! You have no idea just how much you need it. Exercise, read a book. Catch-up with friends. You are a holistic human being, not just a machine that spouts out drug dosages. Besides, the quality of service you give your patients is directly proportional to your personal well-being. If you are in a sucky mood it’s generally likely to spill-over to your professional life too.

6. Your people-skills matter

How you convey news and information could mean the difference between a patient consenting to appropriate treatment or them deciding that they are being mismanaged or them deciding to give up... Patients are scared and sometimes want instant solutions which we can’t provide, and it’s important to help them understand what it is that’s happening to them and what you can and can’t do to fix it. Some people need to be coaxed, others need tough love and it’s your job to figure-out who’s who.

Also, you will occasionally run into patients who think they know more than you and you don’t get to be rude or mean to them no matter what they say. Say it with me: P.E.O.P.L.E S.K.I.L.L.S.

7. Be nice to the people you are working with

You don’t get to boss nurses around just because you can. You need them. They teach you things and they carry out the orders you write and they can generally make your life difficult. They actually know more than you do especially when you’re just starting out. So be nice. Humility doesn’t really cost you anything. I once had a nurse call me to the ward to do a procedure and found that she’d gone and laid out for me all the equipment I’d need. If that isn’t a blessing then I don’t know what is.

8. Look-up what you don’t know or better yet, ask for help

Let’s be honest. Leaving med-school, you know the dosages of like 5 drugs because you weren’t prescribing them anyway and crammed information always fades at some point. The fact that you start work a number of months after graduation doesn’t really help that much. So this is the point at which a decent internet connection comes in handy. Medscape and Uptodate are bae! Also, you’d rather ask the ‘dumb’ questions on day 1 than be forced to ask them in month 5!

9. Remember to eat

You’ll thank me for this later. If you are especially busy you can forget to eat. And you only realize later when your energy levels are low and you’re cranky and miserable. I have personally learned that my body needs more sugar when I’m sleep-deprived. It keeps me functional. So eat even if you don’t necessarily feel like it because you might not know when your next meal will be. Especially on a call night. I’ve taken to carrying cereal bars in my back-pack just in case things get thick.

10. Pray

For wisdom, for guidance, for strength. For calm call nights and just to say thank you. Just pray.

If you’re reading this and you’re an intern or a former intern, feel free to add your own lessons in the comment section below.

Ciao…

Are men really trash?

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 13 Jun 2017 14:39:00 +0000

I know that I'm opening a can of worms. No. Worms are too benign. Floodgates. I am opening the floodgates of a very volatile conversation. It's something I've been thinking about for a while even before I watched my friends argue about it on Facebook a few weeks ago. At the time I just felt that I didn't have the energy to dive into it. But I now feel that I have sufficiently collected my thoughts. Also, I've been busy.

Sexism and rape culture is a reality that can no longer be ignored. My earliest memory of being cat-called was when I was 15 years old. I don't remember exactly where I was or who did it. All I remember is feeling unsafe and disgusted. And in the subsequent times that it happened over the years, I wondered if it was my fault. It happened whether I was wearing a dress or my oldest and baggiest jeans and an over-sized t shirt. It's a thing that I and other women have somehow developed an unspoken rule for living with.
Don't talk back. Walk away quickly. Don't make eye contact. Keep your gaze low. Pretend you didn't hear them. Don't call attention to yourself. Prepare yourself to run of if you have to. Use your keys to gouge out eyes in case of an attack. Aim for the groin. Scream loudly.
The list of 'defense mechanisms' is endless.

If you are a man and you're reading this you may find it bizarre. You've probably never had to think about such things. Never began to get a bit anxious when darkness finds you somewhere other than home and you have to use public transport back home. Never been so uneasy when you boarded a matatu and you were the only one of your sex, and your paranoia won-out in the end when made the decision to immediately alight and wait for a more gender-balanced one. You have probably never felt unsafe in spaces that should be safe like your workplace or your own home or your church. Probably never in your life..and certainly never on a daily basis.

And who is to blame really? There are women who are part of the problem; perpetuate sexism just as much. But the fact remains that men are by far the biggest culprits in cases of violence against women. Especially men with a personal relationship with said women. We have to first of all accept and acknowledge that there is a problem before we can find a solution.

This is the part of the conversation where the hashtag 'Not all men' come into play. Some men are rapists, sexists and all round misogynists; but some of them aren't .That's an irrefutable fact. It's really hard to tell which side carries the majority and the sad thing is that sometimes you not know exactly which type of man you're dealing with until it's too late.
It gets more complicated. There's the question of men who don't perpetuate violent and discriminatory acts against women but are complicit to them. Did you even think to speak-out at all the last time your boy was relentlessly hitting-on (read 'harassing') a woman who clearly wanted to be left alone? Did you awkwardly laugh the last time your male co-worker made a crude comment about one of the female staff? Have you ever said anything to your brother about the way he treats his gilrfriend/wife even though you know in your bones that no human being should be treated that way?
That my brother is complicity. Sure, you personally don't do those things. You have nothing against women. Good for you! You are being a decent human being. Have a gold star! But it's not enough to stop there and be a witness to injustices that you could have stopped! That's almost as bad. So looks like you don't get that gold star after-all.

But in all this I can't deny the fact that there are good men out there trying to make a difference and change things. Fighting alongside us for equal opportunities and the right to be treated like human beings. Which is why I have a problem with the hashtag 'men are trash'. You may say that it's meant to raise awareness about the issues and start a conversation by being loud and shocking but I have a couple of issues with it.

First of all there's the inaccuracy of it because it's a blanket statement lumping all men in the category of 'trash' yet we all know damn well that there are several gems out there. You probably even have some of those gems in your life speaking out against the same issues that you are and working for change to happen. How do those conversations even go? 'So yeah, yesterday I tweeted men are trash but that doesn't include you'? (awkward)

Then, I think there has to be a better way for us to stay woke. A more positive way to marshal the other 50% of the population into doing the right thing. Raising the status of women does not mean that you have to beat men down. If that was the case, then what really is the point of this equality you're fighting for? You can't have it both ways. #MenAreTrash is simply not fair.

And I'm a Christian so thinking back to Proverbs 18:21
The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit
Before you tell me not to bring religion into this kindly remember that you're the same person asking where the church is in all this. I want a better world. I believe that we desperately need one. I'm doing my part and I'm choosing to speak life instead.

Ciao...

Book Review: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Thu, 23 Mar 2017 07:12:00 +0000

I hope that as you read this you won't judge me too harshly for waiting until my mid-twenties to read this book. Truth be told, I also feel I should have read it earlier, but I was busy reading other things during my teens *cough* Harry potter *cough*. I also suffer from having a very large back-log of books I've been meaning to read. My wallet's current situation doesn't help either. Reading is an expensive hobby but we love it all the same.

This book took a bit of patience at the start and I kept on getting distracted, but when the story picked-up boy did it go! The main protagonist is named 'Jane Eyre' (surprise!) and the book is about her life. Her growing-up in basically an abusive household, going on to boarding school and eventually finding work as a governess (read 'private tutor'). This is where she meets Mr. Rochester who I spent at least 5 chapters trying to figure out if I should root for or not. Was he tall dark and handsome? Yes, except for the handsome bit. So you don't have to worry about too many cliches there. Did they fall for each other? Of course! But just when I thought I knew where things were going, there was plot twist after plot twist. Seriously guys, I stopped trying to figure things out and just settled-in for the ride.

At some point Jane ends-up being proposed to by a soon-to-be missionary who tries to bully her into marrying him by quoting scripture, specifically the book of Revelations. I may have lost the ability to roll my eyes ever again due to the amount of eye-rolling that went on at this point. But my beef with Christians who misuse scripture is a topic for another day. The only thing that got me through was me saying over and over 'please Lord let it not end like this!' (Take heart, it doesn't). And I'll leave things at that to avoid giving away too many spoilers.

I liked the prose. There was incredible attention paid to detail when describing places and people to the extent that you can properly visualize them in your minds eye without having to fill-in the gaps by yourself. They just don't write them like that anymore. This book was written in the 1840s and I'm generally fascinated by old literature, more so anything Victorian. There's something about a book having survived nearly 200 years and still being relevant.

So yes, I'd recommend this book to everyone.

Ciao...

Photocredits: Goodreads.com

You don't even know what you don't even know

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 21 Mar 2017 09:00:00 +0000

I feel cheated by our education system. I have a problem with several aspects but I especially have a problem when it comes to the teaching of history. I feel like there are major parts that were skimmed over. Sure, they covered all the major bases about how Kenya was colonized and there were segregated schools for the different races. But it never talked about how Nairobi was basically partitioned into areas where the settlers lived, where the Asian community lived and where the Africans lived. We were taught about how colonialism was a good thing for us Africans and that they British might have overstepped their bounds a bit by mistreating Africans thus leading to the need for the Mau Mau rebellion. Maybe it was inappropriate to explain torture and human-rights violations to 12-year olds. But they glossed over the fact that thousands of Africans died due to outbreaks of diseases that had never been experienced in the continent before. That means that we had no immunity / tolerance for them so we died in scores. And even after independence, all the injustices committed by the government we worked so hard to install. Nobody mentioned the blatant corruption, tribalism and nepotism that laced those formative years. I was left with the distinct impression that the leaders of way back then were saints. I came to know better as an adult.

And I think that our culture is to blame partly. We raise leaders to such a high pedestal that they literally become idols. And how can it be anything less that idolatry when a man in his right mind decides to kill his neighbor because his leaders told him to. We refuse to speak ill of the dead at the expense of the truth. Generations have been raised on a culture of expecting and accepting hand-outs. It started with us selling each other into slavery for cloth. These days we sell our votes and loyalty for sums that will barely last a week. When did we stop seeing the bigger picture? Or are we so used to being the underdog that we cannot imagine being ahead of the pack?

And I get it. That 1000bob at a political rally might be the difference between one’s children starving to death and them living to see another day. But what about later when there’s nobody standing with you in the voting booth? Tribalism and classism hasn’t helped us these past 50 plus years so how about we try something different and see what happens. But I digress.

Back to our history that covers-up our less glorious moments and paints everything through rose-coloured glasses before jumping into world history for the rest of the school years. No wonder we keep making the same mistakes when we’re so quick to forget the lessons that we should have learned. The truth shall set us free.

Ciao…

We need adultier adults

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 17 Jan 2017 09:40:00 +0000

This meme is a running joke between me and my friends. Or my friends and I. We occasionally post on social media about how we have successfully 'adulted' for the day. 'Adulting' being the act of successfully doing something grown- up that you've never done before.Keyword being: successfully. And I know that there is a section of baby-boomers that's sick of this millennial habit of constantly documenting our supposed triumphs for the whole world to see, but I'm pretty sure they'd be doing the same thing if they'd this technology at their disposal in their hey-day. Heck! who I am I kidding?! They did do the same thing.. through phone calls, letters and postcards.

But back to the meme. Being an adult is hard work.. the first time around anyway. I had an experience last year when I accompanied 3 teenage girls to the hospital. Reason being we were at camp and I was a counsellor and they had some injuries that needed to be looked at by a doctor. Nothing too serious (Although I feel like being a medic, my definition of serious is very different from the average Joe's). They were just things that could not be properly managed by the contents of a first aid kit. So there I was, getting them checked-in , finding-out what needs to be paid for and how much it cost, trying not to look so frustrated because I'd never really been on the service-receiving side of the hospital , keeping their folks updated and taking time to cheer them (the girls) up and make sure they were emotionally okay and what-not. I was basically their mom for the day!
I remember looking- up at some point and asking God to help me keep it together. And He did help me do just that. Until it was over and I could finally crash down for a nap after having depleted all my extrovert energy supplies for the day.
Never before had I been the designated responsible adult in such a situation. There had always been a more accomplished adult to take the reins and get things done while I stood-by ready to help out if necessary. But this time I had to go it alone.

But this is not the only time I've suddenly found myself making big decisions and taking even bigger steps all by myself. It's not as if I didn't know what to do. It was just a bit jarring to be the one totally in charge for the first time. And also kind of liberating. Because now if I'm ever in a similar situation again I'll have that cool facade that adults always seemed to have when I was growing up. Something akin to years of experience with a dash of wisdom. I count myself lucky though because I am surrounded by adultier adults (forgive me grammar Nazis) who've taken the time in various capacities to either show me or tell me how things are done. Or even pat my shoulder and say 'there there! ' when things don't go quite the way I planned. Sometime they've laughed at me before remembering they were supposed to be sympathetic and supportive, but it's the thought that counts.

Not everyone my age or younger has been that fortunate. Mostly we flounder-along trying our best and ignoring the sting when our best isn't good enough. And then we take it too far when the weekend rolls round and we're trying to 'blow off steam'. What we really need is for someone to tell us that it's OK for some things to be awkward. That sometimes the best laid plans fail. And that our teenage goals for when we turned 25 might not necessarily be a reality but we're not the only ones (On that note can we all take a moment to giggle collectively as we remember those goals we had set for when we were to turn 25!).
But most importantly we need someone to tell us when we're about to make monumentally stupid decisions without sounding condescending in the process. We need people who are already successful adults to tell us that they messed up too and then explain how they got out of those messes.

On the flip side we need to realise that for those who are just barely coming of age, we are the adultier adults. The sort of revered older brother/ sister who's just old enough to have more money and responsibilities but still young enough to be cool and understanding of their struggles . And they are watching us whether we want them to or not..whether we know it or not. So it's our responsibility to set a good example.
They in turn are setting an example for those kids who are 11/12 years old now and are grappling with the reality of acne and other awkward body stories.

That is how you change a generation. Not by lamenting about them on social media or looking at them suspiciously but by taking them by the hand and walking with them. So will the adultier adults please stand- up!
Ciao...

Those things are not for us

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Thu, 12 Jan 2017 08:00:00 +0000

This is a statement that many 90s kids growing up in this country might be familiar with. That and it's various variants: 'Hiyo iko na wenyewe' , 'not for the likes of us' and most recently, 'Stick to your lane'. When you've lived in mediocrity all your life it changes you. It seeps through your pores and permeates your soul. It becomes the glass ceiling that you place over yourself and your children. The thing that keeps you shackled in the dark when you had the keys all along. Maybe it's a result of colonialism. Decades of Africans being told what they can't do so much that they started to believe it. And even after they were freed, they never really experienced freedom.

You might wonder what these things that we've decided we don't deserve are. Back then it might have been certain restaurants frequented by foreigners, the idea of a family holiday to Mombasa or even the concept of demanding more from our leaders. I was taught that the leaders after independence were stand-up folks who did everything they could to ensure the well-being of the country as a whole. They were basically saints all dressed in white. It wasn't till I got older that I started to hear stories and I realised that things weren't totally black and white. There were a lot of shades of grey in between. Stories of people who desperately hoarded wealth for decades at the expense of our country's development. Tribal power-plays that are quite honestly appalling.

And I get that I was born in an era when people just didn't have the privilege of demanding more from the government. But apparently that 24-year stint has really played a number on the current middle-classes heads. People who either raised children during those years when you took what was given to you without an ounce of complaint, or else folks who were growing up then and were old enough to understand the status quo.

And speaking of the status quo, you do realise it can be changed right? That beyond your myopic view of reality there lies a whole horizon of possibilities! But unfortunately you have decided that:

Corruption is OK. And you leave the fight against to a few brave souls while making comments like 'this is Kenya'. Statements like that irk me to no end.

You have decided to elect the same leaders over and over again because so and so has popularity on their side and is most likely to win. So you really don't want to waste it. You might as well give in and go with the rest of the herd of sheep because you're just not comfortable sticking-out and going against the tide. Or maybe you want to make sure that one of 'our people' is in power. How's that worked for you so far if you're still complaining about the same old things?

You have accepted that our health system is broken and doesn't work. It's been that way since before you can remember. It doesn't really bother you however because you've made it enough to afford private hospitals should you be feeling under the weather. Then you go on Twitter and make statements about doctors being selfish for striking mostly because this strike is a giant pain in your neck. Chances are you're not even properly conversant with the issues on the table.

You somehow got it into your head that tribalism is the new black. So you go around hate-mongering and making snide comments about other communities. No that does not make you cool. It just makes the rest of wonder if you were dropped on your head as a child.

I could go on and on about so many more issues. Stuff that I should have written about last year. And yes I was busy with school, but also I was just tired. Tired of scandal after scandal on the news. A virtual competition to prove who can shock the nation more. The corruption Olympics. Just when I thought 'they' couldn't stoop any lower, our dear leaders performed another hat trick. But it's not enough to be tired. Honestly most of us plus our parents have been tired all our lives. There comes a time when we need to step out of our numbing hazes and remember that it is possible to have more. We deserve those things we've been told are impossible. We're the only ones holding ourselves back.
So #LipaKamaTender

Ciao...

My 2016 reading challenge

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Sat, 31 Dec 2016 05:35:00 +0000

Earlier this year I posted this picture on Instagram:

Because I'm a total bookworm and I'd seen lots of other folks doing reading challenges and I thought that this might be somewhat manageable (meaning the list wasn't super long). It would push me to actually seek out books more intentionally than before. Also, I'm a sucker for dares and challenges. Side-effects of being a very competitive person I suppose.

I kept track of my progress using my instagram and goodreads accounts. I will now attempt to take stock and see how I did.

1. A book published this year
Harry Potter and the cursed child - John Tiffany

A lot of people I know had mixed feelings about this book after all the hype. Personally I'd been waiting for a new Harry Potter book since I finished Deathly Hallows at the age of 17. I loved it, even the script-format. All I can say is: Broaden your horizons and literary palates people!

2. A book you can finish in one day
Shadows on the moon - Zoe Marriot

I found this book quite by accident when I wandered into a book-store with the intention of 'just-browsing-and-not-really-buying-anything' (Lies I tell myself). The book-store had a sale and I fell in love with this cover and the blurb at the back. So I decided to take a chance on this author I'd never heard about and hope I wouldn't regret the money spent afterwards. My gamble paid off! Think 'Memoirs of a geisha' meets dystopian feudal Japan featuring African characters who wield prominent positions instead of being mere slaves. Yeah I know...it's out of the box. But boxes tend to get musty and mouldy and oh so common!

3. A book you've been meaning to read / A book recommended by your local librarian or bookseller
The color purple - Alice Walker

Kindly allow me to cheat and include the same book in two categories. It just so happens that I've always been meaning to read the color purple, and the bookseller recommended it to me as I was once again ' just-browsing-and-not-really-buying-anything'.

4. A book you should have read in school
I've got nada. I sort of did more than my share of reading in school :-). But maybe I'll make a point to explore Shakespeare in 2017.

5. A book chosen for you by your spouse, partner, sibling, child or BFF (or friend?)
Eat, pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert

It was a graduation gift from a friend of mine. It's also a book I'd been meaning to read at some point. Interesting take on a lot of things. And now that reminds me that I need to watch the movie. Oh well!

6. A book published before you were born
The chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis

These books were first published in the 1950s...Yup totally fits the bill. This particular edition is actually the first book I ever bought myself. I keep coming back to these books because let's face it, CS Lewis is a great story-teller. These are the kind of books that are timeless. I still understand the references made despite a 50-year gap between publication and my reading them. I can imagine reading these books to my kids.

7. A book that was banned at some point
La prissoniere - Malika Oufkir

This book was banned in Morocco at some point because it revealed some undesirable things about the then monarch and other prominent people. It was to them what George Orwell's 'Animal Farm' once was to Kenya (Which reminds me to add it to my to-read list).

8. A book you previously abandoned
I don't have a book that I read after previously abandoning...but I do have a book that I abandoned this year. Officially adding it to the 2017 priority list. The lucky winner is none other than:

Mere Christianity - CS Lewis

Why did I abandon it? I was busy with school. And it's the kind of book that takes a bit of effort to read, unlike the sweep-you-off-your-feet-and-get-you-obsessed stories I usually read. But it's got a good thing going on, which is why I'll come back to it.

9. A book that you own but have never read
That is not how I roll. I've read everything I own...and then some.

10. A book that intimidates you
That would have to be lucky winner no.8. So obviously I can't put it up here properly because I abandoned it. This is my cue to put on my big-girl pants and carpe diem!

11. A book you've already read at least once
Prey - Michael Crichton

Enter another great love of my life: Science fiction! This guy will forever be one of my favourite authors because he's unpredictable. His books are filled with awkward moments when you think you know what's going on but realise you know nothing actually. So you stop second-guessing and supposing and just settle-in for the ride. And I love that! Being a wide reader I love it when things can still surprise me. Believe me, life gets boring when you can guess the entire book plot after the first 10 or 20 pages!

Well, that was my year in books, how was yours? I'm going to look for a new reading challenge for 2017. I'm determined to top this.

Ciao...and Happy New year folks!:))

photocredits: www.goodreads.com

What it's like to be an introvert

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Mon, 24 Oct 2016 07:18:00 +0000

Some folks complain about 'adulting'. Introverts complain about 'people-ing'

When I was in High school we had an annual parents’ open day for the form two students. Basically all your teachers sat at different tables and you and your folks went round from table to table so that they (your folks) could meet the teachers and discuss how you’re doing and what-not. I was struggling a bit with some of my grades and it didn’t help for me to have the teachers for the two subjects I was struggling the most in: Math and chemistry – tell my parents that I barely participated in class. I was deeply offended. In my view I was doing very well at class participation. I was practically slaying class participation. Those teachers had it wrong and my parents were equally as wrong for not believing me. That’s what it’s like to be an introvert.

Of course the only people who can appreciate that deep struggle are fellow introverts and ambiverts (Ambiverts are people who have both extroverted and introverted traits). Extroverts don’t see when you’re putting in 100% effort to be out there. Because their 100% is not the same as yours. In fact your 100% is probably like 50% in their view. Maybe even 25% as illustrated in my high school story. And it can be so easy for an introvert to be written off as snobbish when they are judged by somebody who’s lived their whole life being the life of the party. Normal is a relative term. Newsflash: There are people who dread having to be in new social situations because to them the process of approaching a stranger and striking a conversation is painfully awkward. There are people who have opinions but don’t always (want to) voice them. There are people who are perfectly ok with being alone instead of going for whatever social gathering is scheduled for this weekend. In fact, they would gladly choose to be alone 90% of the year but unfortunately they haven’t yet invented houses that are self-sustaining and so they are forced to occasionally step out of the house and interact with other humans for one reason or another.

My high school incident was compounded by the fact that I’d never had such complaints raised against me. When I was in primary school the world was basically my oyster. I was one of the ‘smart kids’. The one who excelled at pretty much everything. But do you know what happens when you take all the smart kids and put them in one institution for their secondary school education. They realize that smartness is a relative term. That there are others who are smarter than them despite their inherent smartness according to the rest of the world. They begin to flounder as they struggle to find balance in this new reality where they are not necessarily the best and have to work so much harder to come close to that. And for an introvert like I was, that meant that I became more closed-off in a sense. You know, I was processing and trying to get my life together. Also I think the mere shock of always being around hundreds of other people at any given time was a factor. I was suddenly a new kid in a sea of new kids from all walks of life and everyday there was a new situation to experience. I was in boarding school for the very first time in my life and it took some getting-used to.

And I did get used to it. Somewhere along the way I discovered that I can actually be a bit extroverted at times. So I oscillate between wanting to have a weekend-full of plans and wanting to do nothing at all and see nobody at all. Wanting to have been invited to stuff but have the option of politely declining. Wanting to throw away my phone and being bummed when not much is happening on it. Being ok with doing things on my own instead of waiting for others, and on the flip-side wanting to experience life with people.

Sometimes...

So for all you well-meaning non-members of this club, please try to understand. It’s nothing personal. Because sometimes we are tired of interactions and want to get through them as quickly as possible. Small-talk can be daunting because we don’t always understand the formula of exactly what topics to cover and in what order. Sometimes we rehearse conversations…in our heads of course! Sometimes we need to recharge our batteries and for that to happen we need the quiet of our own heads. We're quiet because of the millions of thoughts running through our minds. So take a chill pill. We’ll catch-up with you later.

Ciao…

Photocredits: http://introvertunites.tumblr.com/

What a doctor looks like

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 18 Oct 2016 05:59:00 +0000

The hashtag #WhatADoctorLooksLike is sweeping the internet and with good reason. In case you're not familiar with the story, I'll catch-you-up. Last week a man on a Delta airlines flight collapsed. So the flight attendant did what we've all watched in movies but few have seen in real life. She asked if there was a doctor on board. A young African-American OBGYN (The kind of doctor that attends to women during pregnancy, pregnancy related issues and all other female-specific health issues) raised her hand because duh! She's a doctor. And even th The flight attendant saw her but automatically assumed she wanted to ask about something else, so she dismissed her and asked again for a doctor. She managed to get the attendant's attention again and this time informed her that she is a doctor. So the unnecessary time-wasting and possible patient-killing Q & A ensued. Apparently the flight attendant was having a hard time believing that our young African-American woman is a doctor. She asked :
- What kind of doctor she is
-Where she practices
- Why she's on the flight in the first place
- If she had any documentation to prove that she is a doctor

Meanwhile, the man who'd collapsed still wasn't receiving any medical attention and those of us reading this story are having a hard time not pulling out our hairs because we know how crucial those few minutes after a person collapses can be.

Before the flight attendant can continue her interrogation, an older Caucasian gentleman approaches her and also says that he's a doctor. She immediately ushers him to the guy who'd collapsed without asking a single question. You can read the full story here.

You might wonder why I'm sitting halfway around the world upset by this story. You might wonder how this is relevant to a Kenyan society where nearly all doctors are well, black and so race isn't necessarily the issue for us. Well let me tell you why.

I'm upset because in sometimes doctors in Kenya are discriminated-against because of how they look. Patients who don't trust you because you look too young as opposed to the graying professor who's practiced medicine for 40 years and resembles their childhood memory of what a doctor should look like. Never-mind the fact that there aren't enough graying professors to treat everyone in the country. The young doctors are actually taught by the older professors and are taught pretty darn well. Never-mind that the reason the young docs are young is that this isn't the 60s where one went too school much later in life and occasionally had interruptions for years at a time in their education!

Doctors in Kenya are discriminated against when female doctors meet male patients who either refuse to be treated by them, or are hostile towards them. Or even female medical students. I have seen patients who go mum when clerked by a female but suddenly become very vocal when attended-to by a male colleague.Remind me again who loses out when you're sick and decide to be picky about your doctor's gender.

Or when patients assume that any female working in a hospital is automatically a nurse despite the fact that she's wearing a white coat. We all know that in this country doctors wear white coats while nursing staff wear distinct uniforms but apparently this logic isn't obvious to some. Never-mind that the same people have no qualms with identifying male healthcare workers wearing white coats as doctors... even when they aren't. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with nurses. They do incredible and amazing work and are valuable assets to healthcare as a whole. I have a problem with people repeatedly deciding what career options do and do not suit me because of my gender. The fact that it surprises when you meet a woman and she says she's a doctor tells you that there's something wrong with our mindsets. And you tend to raise your eyebrows and almost jump back in your surprise because the thought really hadn't crossed your mind.

Last but not least, doctors in Kenya are discriminated-against because of their ethnicity. From counties that refuse to employ doctors from certain ethnic communities to people who 'prefer' doctors of certain ethnicities. As if ethnicity is directly proportional to medical expertise. And we could talk and talk about how this is one of the ways we are unknowingly tribalistic.. But that could take days.

We need to stop constructing glass ceilings over people's heads without consulting them. This is the same mentality with which we raise our children and decide for them that somethings are not for them. Telling them to stick to their lane. How do you know which lane is for you if you aren't the one driving? The truth is that anybody could be a doctor, engineer, artist, writer, chef or scientist. It's not up to you to decide!

Ciao...

Foodie Fridays: Homemade Butter Naan

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Fri, 02 Sep 2016 13:18:00 +0000

I am obsessed with Indian food. My family knows it and I know it. I’m currently looking for a support group. One which hopefully bankrolls trips to local Indian restaurants. :-D So you can only imagine the glee I felt when I stumbled across this gem of a recipe on Pinterest. It’s quite simple especially if your chapatti making skills are on point! And even if they’re not on point, it’s still easy enough. I modified the recipe a bit and improvised here and there but it still turned out great! So without further ado:

Ingredients

3⁄4 cup warm water

1 tsp. honey

1 teaspoon active dry yeast

2 cups all-purpose flour

1⁄2 cup plain yogurt

2 tablespoon cooking oil

1⁄2 teaspoon salt

½ a cup of melted butter (or cooking oil)

½ cup chopped cilantro (Dhania)

Instructions

1. Stir the water and honey in a bowl; add yeast and let sit until foamy, about 10 minutes.

2. Add the flour, yogurt, oil, and salt and mix thoroughly. Using your hands, knead the dough in the bowl until smooth. Cover the dough with a damp cloth and let it sit in a warm place until doubled in size (approximately 1 hour).

All ready for cooking

3. Transfer the dough to a floured work surface and divide into 10 balls. Working with 1 ball at a time and using a rolling pin, roll each ball into a circle about ½ a cm thick. Sprinkle some cilantro on top and press it into the dough.

Divided into balls

4. Heat a pan over medium-high. Use either the chapatti pan (I don’t know its actual name) or a frying pan.

5. Spread ½ tablespoon of butter on the pan. Place a piece of dough on the pan and apply butter to the top side as the bottom cooks. Cook the bottom until bubbles appear over the surface and then flip it to cook the other side until browned in spots.

Step 1

Step 2

6. Transfer naan to a plate and brush with butter. Serve hot.

Final result

Had mine with bean stew

Bon appétit!

Foodie Fridays: Pineapple and beef stew

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Fri, 19 Aug 2016 09:15:00 +0000

It’s been a while. Months actually since I last wrote anything. School got so crazy that I could barely muster the strength to write anything worth-while. And I don’t do things half-way. Go big or go home right? But I have a bit of a reprieve at the moment and this is me trying to get back on the writing saddle. What better way to do it than with a recipe that will absolutely blow your taste-buds!

I mentioned a while back how much I love fruit-juice marinades. They have this unique flavor and have a way of making food sweet without being as overwhelming as sugar can be at times. Plus, they are healthy!

Short biology lesson: Pineapple juice contains an enzyme called bromelain which actually breaks down tough proteins, such as the ones found in the harder cuts of meat therefore softening the meat. It’s a natural meat tenderizer! No more boiling for hours on end or using a pressure cooker to make meat chewable. Just marinate it in pineapple juice for 2-3 hours and your good to go! Don’t leave it in for too long though or you might end-up with meat that’s mushy. And you could use the same concept to cook other kinds of meat.

So here’s the recipe:

Ingredients

½ kg beef cubed

1 cup cubed pineapple chunks from a ripe pineapple

½ cup soy sauce

1 teaspoon red chili powder

2 tablespoons of cooking oil

4 cloves of garlic finely chopped

2 large onions chopped

3 large tomatoes chopped

Instructions

1. Mix the pineapple, soy sauce, chili, cooking oil and garlic to make your marinade. Do not add any salt because the soy sauce has more than enough and you might end up with a salty mess!

2. In a large bowl, mix the beef with the marinade thoroughly. Cover and leave in the fridge for 2-3 hours.

Mix it like this and then wait

3. Pour the beef and pineapple mixture into a large pan and fry over medium heat for about 10 minutes or until cooked (slightly brown). Stir frequently to make sure all sides cook well.

4. Add the onions and cook until soft.

5. Add the tomatoes and cook for a further 2-3 minutes. If the stew gets too dry add a little water at this point.

And voila!

All done

I had mine with brown rice and steamed kale.

Bon appétit!

#Priorities

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 14 Jun 2016 04:24:00 +0000

What are the things that keep you up at night? Are they your studies? Work? The simple task of feeding your kids from one day to the next? It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that for the average Kenyan, a little ache here or a pain there can wait. A cough that’s lasted for more than a month despite having drank an arsenal of cough syrups is only slightly worrisome. Please don’t get me started on our unhealthy tendency to self-medicate. I’m guilty of doing it myself. The average Kenyan goes to the hospital when the pain is so much that it wakes them up at night. When the headache starts affecting their sight. In other words, when they can’t put it off any longer. And who can blame them; they have bigger problems to worry about. They can’t afford to miss a day or even a morning of work to go to the hospital. They can’t afford transport to the nearest hospital or health centre. They have to choose between feeding themselves and their loved ones and taking a trip that may later end-up being unnecessary.

And by the time they come to hospital, they are told that the headache, was really a stroke. The cough was really tuberculosis. That pain in their leg is now a bone infection that needs special (Read: expensive) antibiotics to treat. Do you know how frustrating it is to see a patient who’s developed something really complex, when the whole thing could have been prevented and treated rather simply if they’d only just come sooner. Do you know what it is to get halfway through a patient’s medical history, realise that their cancer is terminal while their relatives look hopefully at your ‘knowledgeable’ self. Fortunately, it’ll be a few months before I’ll have the responsibility of personally breaking such news on a regular basis, but it still sucks!

And sometimes the condition isn’t terminal, but the treatment will be super-expensive. And they don’t have insurance. And I’m not talking about the fancy private insurance companies that have billboards and TV ads. I’m talking about NHIF. An insurance scheme that’s available to almost anyone, has very friendly premium rates and subsidises and for wide range of tests and treatments in both public and private health facilities. It really saves from the hassle of having to look for money that isn’t readily available on-hand for tests that are urgent.

My point is that we need to get to a point where health is a priority. To us and to the government. It’s cheaper to prevent illness that to treat it. Better health means that families don’t lose their breadwinners, children don’t become orphans and people are generally more productive. You’d think that a developing economy like ours would want its workers to be more productive by spending less time sick.

We need to get to a point where we can save and prepare for a rainy day. Insurance seems like a hassle when you’re well but it’s such a relief when out of the blue you need to fork-out large amounts of cash for important diagnostic tests. And as medics we try. We maximise on our clinical skills just in case ‘fancy’ tests aren’t available to help us in diagnosis and management of a patient. But sometimes it only takes us so far.

So just this once, reorder your priorities a little bit. Invest in insurance. Don’t ignore what your body is telling you. Don’t lean on the medical expertise that you don’t have. For more info on NHIF, visit their website: http://www.nhif.or.ke

Ciao...

Photocredit: https://safestart.com

About that Nairobi brusqueness

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Thu, 09 Jun 2016 11:25:00 +0000

Brusque - Synonyms: curt, abrupt, blunt, short, sharp, terse, peremptory, gruff;
offhand, discourteous, impolite, rude

Being a Christian and a Nairobian is a delicate balancing act. On one hand I want to be kind and accommodating toward people. But on the other I'm hyper-aware of the rampant conman-ship we encounter on a daily basis. So you genuinely try to be concerned about the needs of other...but from a slight distance, you know. Just in case.

I met a woman in the bus the other day. She was sitting next to me and I probably wouldn't have spoken to her if it wasn't for the fact that the bus ran out of fuel and abruptly stalled in the middle of the road....at 7.30 pm in the evening. And yes I’ll admit it. Up until that moment my face was firmly glued to my phone screen. So she sighed and asked me how she would get to the hospital (Kenyatta National Hospital) considering that the bus had stopped and was refusing to start. She was to meet somebody there and her phone was dead. I told her that there would be other buses passing the same route since we were quite close to a bus-stop. She then asked me where I was going. Alarm bells warranted or not went off in my head. She looked innocent enough but don't they always? I was also heading to the hospital but told her I was going to Upper hill, which was technically true considering that the hospital is in upper hill. I just wasn’t comfortable telling her that I was going the same place she was. One does not simply inform random strangers about their movements in this city okay. We’ve heard too many stories about that going badly for the over-trusting party. Unless you’re on foursquare. People on foursquare are forever telling us where they’re at. But I digress.

The other passengers started alighting to see if they could catch another means of transport. I took this as my cue to leave and escape further conversation. You know, just in case she was trying to con me. I was seated at the window and had to go past her to get to the isle. I was halfway to freedom when the driver asked us to wait because they had just gotten fuel (don’t ask me where from) and were just about to manually put it in the tank. So shuffled back to my seat and waited. Maybe I was just slightly less sceptical about her intentions than I had been a few minutes before. When we eventually left, she asked me to tell her when we got to the hospital. The rest of the ride was without incident. We got to the hospital and I gave her directions to the entrance. Turns out she wasn't a con woman after all. False alarm! She was just a stranger who needed some help and now I feel guilty for having misjudged her.

But this story could have turned out very differently. Judging by the sheer number of warning forwards we distribute in a week, one could conclude that Nairobi either has a lot of people walking around with mal intent or that we are very paranoid as a populace. And rightly so! And it get’s exhausting having to have this guard up all the time. More so because I have one of those faces. You know the ones. Those wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly-she-must-be-someone-helpful kinds of faces. Which means strangers stop me to ask for directions and what-not more than they do with the average Kenyan. I’m serious people! I’ll give you statistics next time.

So do I wish that we were a more trustworthy society? Yes I do. And that may be more idealistic than realistic, but allow that idealism for just a moment. And for all of you non-Kenyans who complain about Kenyans not being that friendly, now you know why. It’s not personal mate. We’ve just burned each other way too many times in the past.

Ciao...

Photocredit: http://searchengineland.com/

Foodie Fridays: Spaghetti in sausage with marinara sauce

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Fri, 13 May 2016 10:22:00 +0000

It’s been a while since I made a Foodie Friday post. I could say it’s because I’ve been experimenting a lot with my palate. But mostly it’s because I’ve been busy. And hopefully you guys will get to see what my palate has discovered when I’m not busy.

So I’m sure you saw this photo doing the rounds on Facebook a while back:

Since that day this recipe has been a culinary goal for me. So yesterday I figured, why not! I borrowed the basic concept of the photo and combined it with what I know about pasta cooking and bam! This is what I got. So without further ado...

Ingredients

For the pasta:

10 sausages sliced into thick chunks

Spaghetti

4 cloves garlic finely chopped

1 tablespoon of parsley

½ tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon cooking oil

5 cups hot water

For the marinara sauce:

1 large onion finely chopped

4 cloves garlic finely chopped

1 table spoon butter

4 large ripe tomatoes

Red chilli / Cayenne pepper to taste

½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon brown sugar

½ teaspoon vinegar

Method

1. Slice the sausages into large chunks

2. Insert spaghetti into sausage chunks. The orderliness of the process doesn’t really matter. Arrange them in a sauce-pan like so:

3. Add the garlic, parsley, salt, cooking oil and water.

4. Bring the water to a boil and reduce heat to medium. Cook for about 10 minutes.

5. Drain the water and rinse pasta once with cold water.

6. In a separate sauce-pan fry the onions and garlic in the butter until the onions and garlic are translucent.

7. Add the tomatoes and fry until they begin to form a rough paste. Add water as needed.

8. Add the pepper, salt, sugar and vinegar. Mix well.

9. Serve hot.

Bon appétit!

Count your blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Mon, 28 Mar 2016 22:11:00 +0000

Human beings are such ridiculously myopic beings. Whenever a public figure makes a mistake, we focus on that one incident and completely forget all the good they had previously done. It’s easier for us to focus on the bad in a situation and forget all the good. Even in our own personal lives. When something bad happens to us, we focus on it, lament about, worry about it, tell the whole world about it and promptly forget about anything else that was positive in our lives. I think the author of this hymn was onto that. Because the lyrics hit so close to home with an accuracy that is timeless.

There is something refreshing about counting one’s blessings. It’s a reminder that whatever situation you are in is really not that bad and that this too shall pass. It gives you the strength to go on. It reminds you that indeed God is still here and He is still good.

So I don’t know about you, but I’ve made a decision to do it more regularly. For myself and for others. Maybe you should try it too. Maybe everybody should try it.

Ciao...

Don't be that girl!

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 08 Mar 2016 09:28:00 +0000

My first encounter with sexism occurred when I was 12 years old. It was report-card day at the end of 2^nd term and I was in class 7. This was an especially important report-card day because it was one short step to class 8 and everything was taken more seriously by the school. In-fact to prove just how serious things were, class 7s and 8s had to wear their school-uniforms while the rest of the school got to wear regular clothes! I was a bit nervous but not that much. I went to school with a pretty competitive bunch of kids so by this day after the marking, verification and revision of most exam papers; we’d taken the liberty of compiling a rough estimate of our total marks and averages. I knew I was in a good place. I just didn’t know how much.

For the first time in a long time, I’d come first in my class! I told you I went to school with competitive kids. It was hard to maintain the top position for more than one or even two terms. We kept on shifting positions with every exam and the tying of positions happened a lot. So yeah, I’d beat the kid at the 2^nd position by about 10 marks. We were elated. By we, I mean my mom and I, because you had to have a parent present. The class teacher was also pretty pleased too. He was the kind of teacher who pushed you to work hard and then maintain standards thereafter. He told us that the boy who was at no.2 had actually been in with his mom scarcely 30 minutes before us. He’d been holding the number 1 slot for a while and his mom was so shocked that she asked the teacher, “How could a girl beat my son?”

We told my dad the story and we laughed it off and they were proud of me for weeks after whilst pushing me to maintain my new-found academic success. When school opened I told my friends and they laughed it off too. And I never thought about the significance of that statement until years afterward. At 13, I had more trivial problems: Like how to get my hands on the next Harry Potter book and acne. I didn’t know what sexism, and misogyny and feminism were. I was aware that in some parts of Kenya and the world at large women were treated horribly for being women. And I knew that it wasn’t fair. But I was never actually told that there were things I couldn’t do because I was a girl. I have the kind of parents who push you to succeed whether you’re male, female or a potato! It really doesn’t matter. As long as you live under their roof, you do your best. And maybe I was pushed just a bit more because I was a girl, and the 90s and early 2000s were all about empowering the girl child.

So back to the incident. Years later I wondered why she said it. Was it really so ludicrous for someone female to succeed in that way? Would it have been better if some other kid who wasn’t a girl had beaten her son? And why did she say that in the first place? She’s female too after all. So my first encounter with sexism was from a fellow woman. It really sounds trivial right now because it happened so long ago and didn’t scar me emotionally or anything and was a minor incident...but how many minor incidents like that happen every day?

Like the way female drivers who are competent at driving, make fun of their less competent counterparts. And thus it’s a running joke about how women are terrible drivers.

Or how married women and women in general sometimes shun single women who get pregnant out of wedlock. I personally believe in God’s design for the family within a marriage, but how quickly we forget that it takes two individuals for a baby to be conceived in the first place! When men have kids out of wedlock it’s either expected or praised.

And what about how quickly we assume that any woman making it up the corporate ladder probably sleeps around. And generally there are women who sneer at successful women for being successful for reasons that I might have to speculate about in another blog-post.

But these ‘minor’ incidents often build up leading to major incidences. That’s why they are so important.

Why be that girl? Magnifying the faults of someone with the same chromosomal pattern as you while you let the other 50% of the population get-away scot free with similar or even worse ‘offenses’. Here’s a thought: Maybe to some extent some men treat women horribly because we’ve shown them that it’s ok. We do it to ourselves thereby setting a baseline of expectations, so why should they treat us any differently if that is the normal they see? Now, that is reaping what you sow!

So please, if you are serious about change in society’s attitude towards women, don’t be that girl!

Ciao...

Oh, and Happy International Women's day!

Photo credit: http://www.wpclipart.com/

9 ways med-school changes you

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Mon, 22 Feb 2016 05:00:00 +0000

I've written about being in med-school before and the things you learn. But I've never written about how it inadvertently changes you.

You:

1. Start using big words in every-day conversations.

Case-in-point: ‘inadvertent’ there above

2. Choose comfort over style.

Depending on the activities of the day you may end up choosing these comfy flats that you can stand hours in instead of cute ballet flats, sandals or heels. Those you shall reserve for the weekend.

3. Lose most of your verbal filter.
And therefore end-up often saying stuff that may shock non-medics. It's so normal to you that you only notice it when they give you the 'look'.

4. Get used to strange meal-times.
Early morning classes might mean breakfast at 8/9...despite the fact that you've been up since 5/6am. Lunch at 12/2pm because of surgeries or clinics become a regular thing.

5. Begin to collect a wide range of studs and other nondescript ear-wear.
Because big hanging ear-rings can be an occupational hazard. That awkward moment when your stethoscope gets tangled-up in your loops and you nearly yank your ear off! Ouch!

6. Become the queen of buns and other up-dos.
It's really frustrating trying to examine a patient and be taken seriously while your hair gets in the way. Also, body-fluids. Enough said!

7. Start pinning medicine-related stuff on pinterest!

Because it's the easiest way to save all those helpful charts, diagrams and info-graphics that you find on the net so that you can download them later. I am living proof. Click here.

8. Use your lab-coat to hide your questionable style-choices!
Or as a jacket on a windy day. Or as somewhere to stuff all the things you have to carry on your person. You have no idea how many times this has been a major save!

9. You discover that surgical scrubs are the most comfortable thing in your wardrobe.

Why can’t they make all clothes fit like that?!

Ciao...

Successful adulting is:

noreply@blogger.com (Val) — Tue, 16 Feb 2016 17:48:00 +0000

Forgive the apparent typo, but there really is no better way to express this than by the use of a recently-coined millennial verb. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the word ‘adulting’ made its way into next year’s edition of the oxford dictionary. We seem to be borrowing so much from pop culture these days. Now for everyone born before 1980, according to urban dictionary ‘adulting’ can be defined as ‘doing grown-up things and holding responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups’.

Okay? All good? Now that we’re on the same page allow me to make my list.

Successful adulting is:

1. Pretending to know what you’re doing 80% of the time and actually knowing what you’re doing only 20% of the time.

I have early childhood memories of my parents being total ninjas at stuff. I recently found myself in similar situations and shockingly realised just how much of a coin-toss said ninja activities are! Well, at least I have Google.

2. Buying your own darn groceries.

Especially if you’re not living with mom and dad. Failure to plan to do so and comply will lead to very questionable dinner choices.

3. Becoming really concerned about your parents’ health.

This has got to be the most significant role-reversal. You’re daily bombarded by health and disease statistics and you suddenly realise that your childhood super-heroes don’t necessarily have that much super in them. i.e.: They’re not indestructible. So yeah, you start nagging them about eating their vegetables and stuff!

And on that note:

4. Eating your vegetables.

You get to that point where junk food just doesn’t do it for you anymore and exercise becomes a real consideration.

5. Loving your sleep

Cat-naps in the afternoon. Lie-in weekends. You really don’t have the stamina for staying up all night. Not without sleeping-in or crashing the next day. Those all-night movie marathons? Can’t handle them anymore!

6. Accepting that you will have to fork-out money to pay for a cab if you’ve been out way too late to take the bus

Assuming that you don’t have a car and that car-pooling is not an option. Neither is calling ‘somebody’ to pick you up; because ‘somebody’ is not always available!

7. Making actual decisions and standing by them consequences or not.

You don’t always have a get-out-of-jail-free card and sometimes the best-laid plans fail. But it’s ok. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on.

8. Letting go of people and situations that need to be left behind.

You just can’t have it all.

9. The horrifying realisation that in some way you are now a role-model.

You probably didn’t sign-up for it and you might not always know what that entails or if you are doing it right. This is probably your cue to get your own role-model.

10. Having to prioritise

What takes up your time, energy and money has to be carefully selected because you have a limited amount of each.

11. Knowing that the News in whatever form is important

Because there are people out there making decisions that affect you and knowledge is power.

12. Working to be a better person.

For your future spouse and kids.

13. The small victories as well as the big.

They give you the confidence to do even more and make all the fumbling about worth it.

Ciao...