This was my childhood.

The year is 2006. My mum had done the Godly thing of taking me to church, and luckily, because of my very social nature, I was part of the choir, among other church responsibilities like being the soloist.
My mum had so much going on. Between hard labour to fend for her 10 children and being there as a mother, there was only so much she could do in what I would now call true parenting. Surely we had the basics of human living right, and most of these lessons would happen while tilling acres of land.
Once a week, she would come home early on Saturdays, and we would be waiting eagerly. With kaimati in her pocket, she would distribute it to each one of us, including the neighbours’ children who might have thought we were better off because of my mum’s generosity.
She would then sit, and you could see this sigh in her eyes, like she finally had two hours in a whole week to rest.
But I was only 11 years old. Surely I would not read this as “give mummy some time to rest.” I read it differently, and in a way that was different from my other siblings.
While my siblings demanded emotional connection and said “I missed you” while crying, I would stand up, get into my best costume, mostly made of sisal strips, and entertain her with the latest songs.
It was not the songs that made everything entertaining. It was the dance.
This was what I enjoyed the most, because it was the only time I could see my mama smile.
I was a happier child if I could get that smile from her. I could tell she enjoyed it by the way she would ask me to keep going with new songs. Sometimes she would even suggest songs when I got stuck.
That was my mama. And that was my childhood.

I thought I knew my only choice.

Back to the only choice I thought I had.
In a not so quirky way, I always felt like I was different.
Yes, these were the possibilities. Marriage, children, many children, and hard labour. The available choice.
But I kept wondering how I would afford my mum an anti-aging cream.
I remember one Saturday, she was giving us “girl advice,” and I said, “Mama, you never have to worry. As for me, I will even get you those anti-aging creams, the ones that will make you look ten times younger.”
Mama looked at me, full of hope but also worn out, and she said, “Are you sure you won’t turn out like the rest of your siblings?”
To many, that would have been the moment to lose confidence and give up.
But I saw something different in her. Like she believed, but life had been too hard for her to fully trust that belief. Can we blame her? No.
So I said, “Never. I look forward to taking care of you and all my siblings.”
I was naive. But I knew I was different.

Then everything changed.

In 2008, I was sitting for my exams. The last paper was Geography.
I had gone to stay with one of my teachers on the other side of the river, which would flood around KCPE time and block candidates from doing their exams.
I came home, and I will never forget how calm and deceiving the day looked.
There was a crowd gathered at our home.
The women looked defeated at the sight of me, and the men seemed to think, “Let’s get this done,” as they discussed the tomb and where it would be positioned.
My mother had passed on.
As I write this, we are only two years shy of the twentieth anniversary.
My mum died a hero. She was my hero. My everything.
And just like that, the news took away all the “difference” I thought I had.
I was ready to settle for the next man in line.
Look, I was beautiful, I still believe I am. And up until then, I had reported every single boy who even said hello to me, to my mother.
So the despair could not have been more real.

But I was not alone.

But I was lucky. Or maybe I was prepared.
Remember Pauline?
This is where we explain why God should bless her forever.

This is where Pauline stepped in.

I graduated top of my class in 2008 with 342 marks out of 500.
You might wonder how that is top of the class. But try attending one of the most remote primary schools, where shoes were a luxury and eating was for the rich.
Then you will understand why 342 marks was an outstanding record, one that had not been achieved in the past six years at the school.
Months later, I realised I was also top student in the zone.
The government, in its own wisdom, gave me a chimney lamp as a reward.
I thought, this will be nice one day as I cook for my ten children.
But I had Pauline.
As the firstborn of ten, she had already done her share of parenting. She carried her own version of the same weight my mum had.
One day, while tilling land, she told me, “I want you to know that I have even saved for your university. So it is up to you to claim those savings.”
It was a lie. One I think was very intentional.
But it lit a fire in me.
Not a small light. A fire.
Because immediately, I reported one of those boys who had started to confuse me.
Pauline did what a mother would do. She took me to stay with her, closer to the primary school where she taught.
She was very smart, and it showed in her strict way of living.
I remember she once left me a letter saying, “I am off to school. Let me come back and hear that you were not gallivanting, not even outside the plot, but even inside it.”
Jesus.
I was in Form 2 at the time, midterm, preparing for my final term.

I chose differently.

In 2010, in November, I came home and the whispers were loud from the moment I stepped into the village market.
My sister, the one closest to me in age, had dropped out of school and run away with a man.
And she was pregnant.
That broke me, but I kept moving.
I remember searching myself for even the smallest desire to do the same. To leave school, because I thought, surely, that could be my fate too.
I found none.
I went to school with pocket money that would run out in the first week. I never called home because I understood the situation.
I was lonely. I truly was.
But Pauline checked in regularly through the principal.
Later, I found out she had an agreement with her. As long as she paid 3000 shillings every month, I would stay in school.
I was sharp. And I led.
Class captain, student representative, games captain, and later dining hall captain, second in command after the head girl.
Teachers have a soft spot for performing students. I benefited from that despite my rather rowdy self..
I stayed in school and passed with an A minus. Eighty points.
One point shy of an A.
I thought I had failed.
Because of the standards I had put on myself. Because of the standards Pauline had set for me. Because of the standards my principal had set for me. Because of the standards the world held us against.
Pauline asked me what was wrong, and I said, “I am one point shy of an A.”
She paused and said, “Katoko, there will never be anyone more proud of you than I am right now.”
She meant it.
Then she said again, “Remember, I have your university fees ready.”
It was still a lie. But it kept me dreaming.
The principal told me, “Do not be silly. This is impeccable.”
And in that moment, I knew something was very different.
Other than Pauline, I was now the second of ten siblings to finish high school. And not just finish, but excel. I started thinking about a destiny, one where I will always break generational history.
I was not married. I had no children. No man had known me in that way.
And in my world at that time, that meant something.

And this is who I became.

I wrote a piece about how I joined the University of Nairobi and how I fell in love with my field, tech. You can read all about here:

This piece should have gone out on International Women’s Day.
To celebrate my mother for bringing up a strong woman. Pauline. My school principal. All the female teachers who held my hand during those early days. My sisters, for never giving up even when life beat them down. My girlfriends that I met along the way.
But most importantly, me.
For never giving up. For keeping the candle alive.
For my daughter, who is privileged to have me in her life. A daughter who, I believe, will never have marriage and children at the top of her list; unless it is what she truly desires.

I am a mother and a wife to a wonderful supportive man. Choices I made because I wanted to, not because they were the only ones I knew.
I hold a Master’s degree in Information Technology Management from the University of Nairobi.
I am a Senior Solutions Developer at the United Nations World Food Programme.
And I am also a co-founder of NBT Technologies. At NBT, our mantra is “Life without the hustle”. Our flagship product, BillBuddys, which I have written about here, is a Kenyan fintech app that helps groups collect, track, and settle money together without the usual confusion.

You’ve just finished dinner with friends.

The waiter drops the bill.

Everyone suddenly becomes very quiet.

One person reaches for the bill “for now.”

And then it begins…

“Guys nitumie 2,350.”
“Ni how much tena?”
“Si utume paybill?”
“Remind me kesho.”
“Si nililipa drinks last time?”

If you’ve lived in Kenya long enough, you know this script.

Splitting bills isn’t hard because of math.

It’s hard because of people.

And the awkwardness that comes after.

Why Splitting a Bill in Kenya Still Feels Complicated

The bill has already happened.

Dinner is done.
The drinks are finished.
The Airbnb has been booked.
The fuel tank is full.

Now it’s time to split.

Here’s what usually happens:

One person pays the full amount.

Then they open WhatsApp and type:

“Guys total ilikuwa 14,700.”
“Everyone send 2,450.”

Immediately:

“Wait, did that include service charge?”
“Si nilikunywa soda tu?”
“Remove mine, I came late.”
“Nililipa parking.”

Now the math starts again.

The payer adjusts amounts manually.
People send money at different times.
Some forget.
Some send the wrong amount.
Some ask for Paybill.
Others prefer Send Money.
Screenshots are shared.
Balances are recalculated.

What should have been a simple split becomes a mini accounting exercise.

And the person who paid ends up doing more work than anyone else.

The Real Friction in Splitting Bills

The issue isn’t that Kenyans don’t want to pay.

It’s that there’s no shared system for:

• Clearly showing the total bill
• Assigning individual amounts fairly
• Tracking who has paid
• Tracking who hasn’t
• Confirming when the bill is fully settled

Everything happens in fragments; messages, screenshots, memory, manual lists.

And when information is fragmented, tension creeps in.

That’s where the awkward follow-ups begin.

So How Do You Split Bills in Kenya Without the Awkward Follow-Ups?

You use a system built specifically for group expenses.

That’s why we built BillBuddys.

BillBuddys is a social app designed to help friends, families, colleagues, and communities split bills transparently without the uncomfortable chasing.

Here’s how it works:

• Create a bill
• Add your buddies
• Assign how much each person should pay
• Share the bill link
• Everyone contributes and money is settled directly via M-Pesa
• The app tracks everything automatically

No spreadsheets.
No manual reconciliation.
No “please confirm payment.”
No awkward follow-ups.

Tracking is done in real time.

Real-Life Situations Where This Matters

Splitting bills in Kenya isn’t just about restaurants.

It’s everywhere.

• Baby showers
• Chamas
• Church contributions
• Hiking groups
• Weddings
• Harambees
• Group vacations
• Rent sharing
• Office farewells
• Birthday plans
• Road trips

In all these cases, money moves socially.

And social money is emotional.

Transparency removes tension.

The Psychology Behind Group Money

One thing we’ve learned building BillBuddys is this:

Money in groups is rarely just about the amount.

It’s about fairness.
It’s about visibility.
It’s about trust.

When people can clearly see who has contributed and how much, it reduces suspicion.
It reduces silent judgment.
It reduces the pressure on the organizer.

A transparent system protects relationships.

And relationships matter more than the bill.

Why Kenya Needed a Better Way to Split Bills

Kenya is one of the most digitally connected payment ecosystems in the world because of M-Pesa.

But while we solved individual payments beautifully, group payments still relied on manual coordination.

We wanted to fix that.

Not by replacing M-Pesa.

But by organizing the chaos around it.

BillBuddys integrates seamlessly with the ways Kenyans already pay — Paybill, Buy Goods, and Send Money — while giving structure to group contributions.

If You’ve Ever…

• Paid a full bill and waited weeks to be refunded
• Managed a WhatsApp contribution list
• Sent multiple “friendly reminders”
• Felt awkward asking for your own money back
• Watched a group go silent when it’s time to pay

Then you understand the problem.

And you understand why it needed solving.

The Bigger Vision

BillBuddys isn’t just about splitting restaurant bills.

It’s about building infrastructure for how groups move money socially.

Because in Kenya, and across Africa, we don’t spend alone.

We spend together.

And that deserves better tools.

Try It

If you’re planning a group event, dinner, chama, fundraiser, or trip soon — try using BillBuddys instead of managing everything manually on WhatsApp.

Download here:
👉 https://billbuddys.com/download

And if you use it, tell us what you think.

We’re building this for you.
And we’re building it with you.

—
Sharon Malio
Co-founder, BillBuddys

Growing up in a remote village in Kitui County, Kenya, life was like an endless obstacle course with no finish line in sight. With ten siblings and a family that believed only doctors and engineers could escape poverty, I was determined to prove that there was more to life than stethoscopes and bridges. My journey into technology was not planned — it was more of a chaotic stumble, filled with desperate moments, unwavering resilience, and a whole lot of prayers.

The First Application: A Moment of Failure

Like every good underdog story, mine began with a failure. My first university application flopped, and I was granted a second chance. The problem? I had no idea how to access my application portal. In my village, smartphones and computers were about as rare as unicorns. So, I took the long journey to the nearest town’s cyber café. Once there, I realized I had no clue what my password was. And resetting it? That was another mystery altogether. Panic set in — it was the day before the deadline, and I was locked out of my future!

A Risky Journey to Nairobi

With no options left, I scraped together bus fare (thank you to everyone who contributed to the 3000 that I carried with me to Nairobi) and made my way to Nairobi, determined to get help. I soon found myself standing at the University Way intersection, staring at the speeding cars and wondering if this was how my story ended. “The devil really sent me here to die,” I thought. So, I said a quick prayer, crossed the road like my life depended on it (because it did), and finally arrived at the Joint Admissions Board (JAB) office.

I met a staff member who, after hearing my distressing tale, pressed a few keys on his keyboard and — boom! — password reset in 30 seconds. That was it? I had traveled across counties for something that took half a minute? The frustration was real.

Facing Another Setback

Determined not to let my journey go to waste, I rushed to a nearby cyber café to complete my application. But fate wasn’t done testing me. Every single course I had originally wanted was full. I scrolled frantically, hoping for a miracle. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, my desperation peaked. It was 11:45 PM when I sighed and whispered, “God, if it is Your will for my generation to stay poor, then so be it.”

A Second Chance: The Power of Advocacy

With nothing to lose, I returned to JAB the following day and found the same staff member. He suggested that I write a handwritten plea to the Vice Chancellor (VC). I didn’t waste a second. Ten minutes later, the staff member returned with unexpected news: “The VC has accepted your request.”

A New Opportunity

As I scribbled down my course choices, the staff member asked, “What do you want?” I responded, “Anything that helps me run away from poverty.” He chuckled and said, “Apply for Computer Science. Your performance is meticulous, and that’s all this field needs. Don’t even think about another university — choose UON.”

I took his advice, submitted my application, and two days later, I was officially admitted. This time, I wasn’t playing games. I walked 20 kilometers daily to the nearest cyber café, determined to stay updated on all communications. No way was I going to let another deadline catch me off guard!

My First Day in Class

On my first day, the lecturer asked, “Which programming languages have you used before?” I nearly raised my hand, ready to proudly declare, “Kikamba, Kiswahili, and English!” Thankfully, I noticed other students raising their hands confidently, saving me from humiliation. I quickly realized I had a lot to learn.

Finding My Passion

As I settled into my studies, curiosity took over. I thought back to the struggles I had faced — how ridiculous it was to travel across six counties just to reset a password. That frustration became my motivation. If I could master tech, I could create solutions that ensured no one else had to endure what I did. That realization ignited my passion for technology.

Conclusion

My path into tech wasn’t glamorous; it was filled with detours, setbacks, and prayers. But looking back, every challenge made me stronger. Today, as a tech solutions engineer, my mission goes beyond innovation — I want to ensure that no one else has to cross highways, plead with VCs, or rely on strangers just to access basic digital services. And if my story teaches anything, it’s this: resilience, humor, and sheer determination can turn any roadblock into an opportunity.

If holding you is not magic, I wonder what magic could be,

If kissing you is not serene, I wonder what serene could be,

If your sleeping beauty is not magic, I still wonder what magic is,

I have felt and assumed you were okay for 6 months, is that not magic?

At first, you could move, a little flatter, a little kick,

And then growth kicked in, at first slow, then eventually too fast,

People would bet over whether you were a boy or a girl,

But the magic was all I needed, as it had been magic throughout.

So many things that kept me wondering, wanting to know,

But you are inside and the answers hardly show,

The visit to the doctors only end up with a mere know,

And I would sit and imagine things, like what is your hair type?

Is it my genes or your dad’s?

Will you be tall like your uncles, or as short as your aunties?

Which one is better anyways, will your fingers be short as mine?

Will you have my dimples planted on your cheeks?

What will be the color of your eyes? Will they be big or small?

Will you even like us?

I never want you to ever feel alone,

Your daddy and I planned to have you from the start,

You are the product of love from him and me,

And you are the biggest achievement we will ever have.

Today and forever.

I will hold you in my hands in 3 months time,

I will feel you against my chest for the very first time,

I will hear your cries for the very first time,

And at this time my angel I must say your gender does not matter

Boy or girl, you shall be my go-to gift of a lifetime.

I can feel the excitement,

I can feel constant worries of your well being,

You put me in constant action, like choosing the right meals,

Doing constant walks, hoping to do it right by you,

For the gift, you are, precious as pearl,

Forever I promise to be the best mum you will ever need.

Took me on a wild ride, a roller coaster starts,

Gallivanting like a lonely feather,

That is detached from its own,

The green was a distraction like a confused weather,

The yellow looked ripe, yes, I could see a lawn,

Then I saw a crowd, black and white was the theme,

Dancing and swaying in the air.

Up in the sky I gazed, wondering, half snoozing,

A pattern like the astronomy of the sky,

Ageless they looked just like the snow,

And a V-shape was the current pattern,

Precious as a pearl beyond the deep blue sea

More serene than the magic of a night’s full moon

Then just on the trees, that looked magnificent at a glance,

They swam with a bewitching dance,

And some of its part carried more, the sea was now near,

And the breeze looked greener as they made a sweet melody

The blue around them, I catch myself thinking of the best way to catch it,

The breeze being send to the valleys,

Moving and shaking like the peacocks,

But still, they looked even more sparkling in all this,

I stood there in a short motion, slowly staring,

And then sun rays that penetrated, caught me just glaring,

Because like the flowers they looked like new blossoms,

Wallowing in my sleep I could see the intensity, the beauty,

I wanted to make a song but I did not have the lyrics

Besides I am not a singer, so I sat to write a poem

Words would pass, but this show, a ground forever,

Because the sky here is different sweetly,

The sun here shines brightly differently,

The cold here is warm goodly, freshly,

And the air is warmly fresh with wealth of unshared,

He was happy, straight, tall, dark and not so much masculinity physically. He was charming right from the first look he gave me. “hey, long time” he whispered. I felt my heart blossom with fantasies. Fantasies that I took all along the journey. He was real. He was a figure. Just what I had been waiting for. “Hey, long time” I repeated his words. I saw his eyes call me. And even though I was not sure whether those were valid signs, I knew I had to cultivate them. The signs. “I will see you around” he said while dribbling a soccer ball. It was then or never. His lips moved like they called me. And his body, not so masculine, but just what I wanted, felt like it beckoned me. “Hey, I’ll come with you. I love sports. I can play too” I said unblushing and at the same time trying to trap him into the signs. He was not the hesitant type. “ooh, yeah, why not! We could catch up actually”. And as we walked, life felt different. It felt like a reunion of this long lost “friend”. If you grew in my world, a friend is anyone you had or have ever planned or had the intentions of meeting up for a cup of coffee. I knew that this is the friend I wanted to have forever. With multiple of those cup of coffee plans. I thought of the kisses with snow flakes falling. I fantasized all I could. He was all I ever wanted. The game lit. Initially we had 1 of his friends join and later his colleagues. It was fun. The man of my life was with me. Right here.Playing.

Now I want you to understand my background. I am a lady, a woman, born and raised in Kenya in a small town in some of the marginalized areas. There are traditional teachers some which are actually are our mothers. The common norm here is that society comes first. If it says you can not marry that young man, then so be it. If it says you can not educate a girl. Then so be it. And one of the things it says so loudly is that,as a girl, you can not approach a man. You dress well. Decently. Long skirts if possible. By the way, in my village trousers here are forbidden. As a woman your work is in the kitchen. You cleanup after yourself and the men in the house. You wait for the man, you wait for him to come and have a word with your father. And your father should agree to whatever word if he feels the man in question can pay him enough in your exchange. Now that is where I come from. Where the man should always be the first to state his intention. Then you think of the Kenyan statistics which actually states that there is slightly higher number of female in comparison to that of the male. But this does not give you a go ahead so you wait and hopefully he takes this, the soccer game, to another level.

In the game I, and you, could probably see the way he protected me. “Hey Dazzy, do not be hard on her. She is a lady.”He would call out his friends whenever it was their turn to match with me. Was that a sign, was that enough for me to say 'I do?’ But what is enough anyway? Who knows the ways? I was excited and all I wanted was to have him by my side. But that was not going to happen. I was an intern at one of the impeccable companies in Kenya and he, had just been employed by the same company. Or let me phrase it well. I was in my third year in campus and I had been attached to one of those great telecommunication companies we have in our motherland. By the way, I am intelligent, smart and outspoken. Most people say I am talkative too. But depends on what you call talkative. I have now graduated with a first-class degree in Computer Science from one of the best universities in Kenya. Now I want you to know that I had approximately 10 days for my internship to come to an end. I knew the clock was ticking and my stay at the company was at it’s last moments. It was now or never. To have him or lose him. Yes its possible to lose what you never had. Especially if it affects your emotions.

That evening there was company dinner. I knew I had lost it all when I could not see him. My eyes were everywhere, and I think his friends might have realized. Which is great by the way. Make sure his friends understand you. The more they talk about you in his presence, the more he gets curious, and the more he might get interested. But he was not the kind. And I had not much to do. Remember where I hail from? You don’t even attempt to look at him. So I lost hope. And was just walking aimlessly looking for a friend who had “taken” my phone. At this point I needed anyone to help me make a call to the friend who was also their colleague, but our connection with this friend was not as the one I had with this, then “potential” MR.RIGHT. It was different. The kind of, give me a lift home. Bring me coffee in the morning. Take me out on a shopping. Friendships that you never give back. This was a one sided friendship.

The evening was here. And the darkness had lured the day with its misery look plus the beautiful nonchalantly sky full of glimmer from the stars. And under the awning of the night, I could see him, unrest, holding his drinks, I say drinks because they were many, yet he had non open. So I slowly approach him, not intentionally, but to borrow his phone to make that call to my friend. At this time I was just worried about one thing. Getting home. To my friend’s home, which was my home for 45 days and for the next 10. She was family and I got family from her family. Story for another day.

I am holding his phone and just before I make that call I see an incoming call from “babe”and I innocently and so not bothered mutter some words like “hey you got a call” and he says “its okay just disconnect it and go ahead and make your call?”. Good sign? I ask. I do not know. Now the clouds are heavy and light showers down the earth coming like a sign of the blessings of me and him. I then immediately remember my small brother with whom we played in the rains and our songs would be like “Mbua ua tuye malenge na maiyu”. Translated this meant Rains, please rain so that we can eat pumpkin and bananas. And then I call him, my brother, reminding him of the days. He remembers them so vividly, which makes me come to my senses. This is not a blessings rains, its just for the bananas and the pumpkins. Really. I make the call anyway, my hopes shattered, but with a fierce fire in me that says something else. The way he looks at me. I am sure he feels something too. I hand over his phone and I say thank you. “Are you okay?And how are you going home?” he asks. I lie, that I have a person who is taking me home. Technically I had, my friend, who however, I had not informed of my desires. He smiles and says, his cab is waiting outside. He bids me a goodbye. No hugs. Just firm handshake. At that point I am just so sure that I have lost my Mr.Right. The ‘right’ that has a capital R.

I arrive home that night and find my friend waiting for me at the living room. She is tall and beautiful. Intelligent and with some level of innocence. But most importantly very generous. But today we focus on her ability to start a conversation. “How was the event?”. That question was everything. I was going to answer to it anyway. It opened the platform for a girl chat. And then I went “The event was amazing. I met someone. His name is Mr.Right. He is tall, us of below 5.5 will call anything taller tall. He is dark. He is handsome. I do not know his tribe. And I have a burning spot for him.” There is an exclamation that she never left behind. So she was happy for me and to prove that she said “weweeeeeeee, light skins, your work is easy”. Now do not shoot me or my friend for colourism. That is just how we laughed. She is dark chocolate, and this did not make her intelligence any lesser, nor did my lighter skin. And then we laugh. Silence follows. We then talk code Python and Ruby. Then departure to our beds.

The night is dark and the ceiling is white looking bruised and surly, like a butcher with a blunt knife. No stars, no moon. and I am thinking this is a sign. I lean back and close my eyes and while enjoying the moment selfishly my thoughts join me. What if there was never a Mr.Right?

I see an image resembling my face with a soccer ball that morning. I am on Whatsapp just going through the memories of the previous night. Of photos, he had taken with his phone. I see more photos incoming and then he says hi. Several days led to weeks and then just before I left the company, he asked me out on a lunch date. Its been 3 years and we are stronger than you all expected to hear. Because I am from that small village. The village that taught me much about what traditions meant. But also one that taught me that your happiness comes before anything. Its thinking me before you. That is not being selfish. Its self love, dedication and doing things for you. If I agreed with my society, I would not be writing in English. I would probably be some place in the bush chasing goats and winning crops in preparation for this rainy season. Collecting firewood to go home and make my husband happy and forever prove to him that I am worth his love. My Mr.Right has never stopped being handsome, very intelligent. He is constantly proving to me that a woman deserves more than the judgement that come with our societies. That spark is still there. And I hope we live forever to see the spark ignite to a voluminous fire.

What comes in to our minds when we think of independence is more than just the measure of how independent we are. People have described independence in various ways. After talking and viewing the responses of different people of different gender and age on what independence is to them I got different perspectives of independence some of which make me think that I got too many twins out there. Some are as stated below.

• You don’t answer to someone else.
• You determine your own schedule, values, and priorities.
• You stand alone.
• Being able to depend upon yourself.
• Not being a victim anymore.
• Doing things without manipulation.
• Self-reliance.
• Living a fulfilling and sustainable lifestyle.
• The ability to say no.
• Not having to ask for permission to live my life.

My thirst for independence has brought me this far. This far to write down what I want. My friend says I should call it Fierce Independence. I had started off that topic when I realized that in our chats she also stated that growing doesn’t necessarily require anyone’s permission. But is it just about all of the above? Clearly independence is viewed differently by people based on how independent they are. Few hours ago I did not have an idea of what independence was or is. So Ruth developed this analogy that says, write it down, whether on paper or on screen. I knew I would not use paper anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I just love trees. Plant more trees guys.

I would like to be in love with this monster called independence and while I don’t know how I know what I want from it. Because your independence is all that matters. My independence is the center of my survival.

Mental Independence

An important distinction exists between independent thinking and rebellious thinking. Rebelling against someone else’s ideas means that you purposefully take the exact opposite stance to someone’s ideas, and so their ideas are ultimately controlling yours. This is me in most cases, but today I am here to say that, not today sir. I am gonna rock mental independence like never before. That independence that describes me as an independent thinker. I wanna be able to think for myself, regardless of what others think and say. More like accessing my internal resources, listening to my inner voice, weighing up all the facts and feelings I have accumulated, and forming opinions based on this. I would like to have this as the basis of my independent thinking, independent decision-making, which then leads me to independent actions and behavior. This is one thing I want from this. The independence of Knowing what I want.

Behavioural Independence

I believe that Independent behaviour is partly based on mental independence, because it is only after you can think independently, that you can make independent choices in life from what to eat, to what you choose to do for a living. While its a need on its own, I would focus on the mental one first because only then will I be able to be behaviorally independent. I want to have the freedom from control or influence of others.

Survival-based Independence

We all are not independent if we do not have the independence to survive. The ultimate point of independence is being equipped to look after yourself to enable your successful survival. In our world rather what I agree with and what I might be looking for, this means:

Financial independence: Earning money myself to allow me to buy food and pay for shelter. Enough to take me for years without having to work my ass off each and every other day.

Safety-related Independence: This involves knowing how to maintain my safety, how to avoid dangerous situations and how to handle them if they occur. We are all surrounded by dangerous situations. Just look closer darling. You will realise your handling them is the mistake in the first place.

Self-care-related Independence: There is nothing as adorable as this. Knowing how to look after yourself to maintain your good health and fitness, and taking care of all your needs, including social ones has never been so attractive. Part of self-care is having a healthy social life, lets not forget there is always a healthy degree of “interdependence” that is needed even for the most independent people. We are after all social animals whose survival is connected. Without interdependence between farmers and consumers, for example, we wouldn’t have food or clothes. This give and take of “group interdependence” is necessary to enable individual independence. Being 100% self-sufficient is not the same thing as being independent. Being independent does not mean living a solitary life and never asking for help. Asking for help only becomes dependence if one person uses the other without the intention of giving anything back. Dependence also occurs when a person lacks the intention of learning to become self-sufficient.

I want to be able to live with the intentions of giving more than taking. The bad intentions of take and never give back I want them gone. I need the independence. I need survival based Independence. From my own perspective, Independence is making my own decisions and striving to base those decisions on my own best thinking and not on the perceptions of others. Being able to have all those types of independence and still smile broadly because life for you is the best there will ever be. My worst enemy is the tendency to worry too much about what other people think. But today, I wanna give that the middle finger. Face the world with a new mind and look deeper into situations.

You move in with a particular person, family or even a house with every belongings you got hoping to establish a long lasting relationship with that particular person or family(You don’t want to loose your job). Then just at the door you realize that clearly this family had been waiting for you. There is a fowl smell with everything scattered everywhere and while you wonder what sorta beings these guys are, you realize that you asked for a job and you got it. At that time you just kneel down and say two grateful words to your god, “thank you”.

So work starts immediately and you get to the kitchen even before settling down, because you wanna impress your the family who then is your new boss, they are always new, but what much do we have to do, its the world of employment. Here, there is no much difference from what was in the sitting room except that the molds and everything really put you off. The dirty utensils and the general dirt remind you of the fact that its a job. So you suck it up. And engraved into the thoughts of whether this is what you signed off for life a reality hits you. You are not beautiful unless you are a you are a wife a material. Blue color job, intelligent, with money and able to say no just to mention but a few. But all these are hard to play by, because at the moment you got none. Not even the power to say no. This is the power of will. The power to serve despite everything. The power to say yes when it necessarily does not matter. But there is even much power. The power of saying NO when it matters and that of saying YES when it also matters. I am still short of this. But who am I? I am not a mboch while am I even the writer.

So then its a year down the line and you realize some of your dreams coming true. The dream of you being that endless friend to your boss. But something strikes you. Is it all about time to an endless friend?? What is a year anyway when this family never gave you any hearty assist just because they paid you what might look like a “salary”. You then realize that ever since you “moved in” with this family its been all you. In fact the family now wears double the number of clothes they used to in a day. They use 3 tea cups each in a one tea break session. They celebrate in washing their faces right at the kitchen floor. The kids play wherever they want. Because they got you. The mboch. You know what that means to you?? Not just to you mummy. To the world. Get it right. YOU ARE BEING USED. So you cry some days hidden in your duvets and some you smile so painfully that this family now realizes. “So what do you want Melissa? More money or less work?” And you keep wondering…”Do you fam think you doing me a favor by my being here or why exactly do I get the attitude?” So this kinda question hits you severally and while you wanna let them know you can’t, the power of saying no is just not within you. Then you notice that there are better ways of doing these things.

So you hit up on Cathy your fellow mboch the next door who actually tells you that she was fired the previous day because she asked the boss that one question you have been holding. So you panic and like if nothing really happened, you move into the rest shade where your boss rests her legs and looking into his/her eyes you say something like, “Do you want me to wash your under wares?”The boss then smiles and awards you a few complimenting words “Ooh swirry, you are such a hardworking beautiful woman. Thanks mummy. And yes please I will place them all on the corridor floor”

So that day dinner time approaches and so full of anger and sadnes you just want to say something. Just even if it is to one of the youngest kids around. This time, the clock is ticking and the calender well designed and then just one look into it and you realise that it is almost 2 years of being in this scaring relationship. You notice how many days you have had to wake up and cry sometimes. You notice the days you have told cathy to be patient enough. You then look around and see no one. Because the family has gone to “Ocha” to see their folks. What this reminds you is that you haven't been to your parents or family for the past 2 years because you were afraid you might lose your work. So you breath in deeply and wish that life was the other way round. That you went to school or maybe that your parents were intelligent or even lets just say rich enough to see you through the valleys and mountains of being like your boss. Then you blame your mother for not being beautiful. Remember beautiful?

You are so determined to let your boss know that you trully deserve better, but they are educated and you are not. They are exposed and you are not. In short they are the opposite of you. They are back. Their elegance and everything leaves your mouth wide open. That feeling alone leaves you with no choice, but then you gather some courage and ask for a permit to visit your parents. They are friendly enough at this moment but they tell you that you should not be gone for long. 2 to 3 days is too much. “Mellissa, you can only leave on a sartaday and come back on Sunday evening”. You then remember that the “salary” is still not there and you genuinely ask to be given some money that you could use for the visitation. Something like an advance. The boss laughs so hard and just like usual you walk out of the “whatever the place”. Then she follows you with a “hey, so you dont have money, where have you been taking your other salary? Like Mellisa come on, You don’t pay rent, you don’t buy food, where do you take your money?I dont have money!!” Just then you realise that you do not have money too.

So so sad you cancel the visitation as you await the end month to come by but its not easy as well because you aint so sure you will be permitted to leave when the time comes. But you let that bitter herb down your oesophagus. This hurts so much you just need more water as much gets oozing through the eyes. “It is not fair, I do not think this is fair”. But this is what you have been tellling yourself for several months now and it has never yielded to anything. But then while at it you remember your boss’s words, “where do yoou take your money?” So then it hits you that the boss might actually be thinking they have been doing you a favour by buying food and paying for the rent? But what much would it have changed if you were never in the house? Maybe the one bedroom you might not have asked for even. Come on, we all mboches can fit in the sitting room. We sleep after everyone else and wake up before everyone else. For what hell then do we need a bedroom. The kitchen is actually a perfect fit. Then you establish that you are actually doing them the favour.

You have a new confrontation to make. Then you remember Cathy was fired. You then remember your family and how much argony they will be in if you signed off the contracts, so you relax and humbly move on past that. But the moving on is hard and you want someone by yourside. Just then you realise you have not been just a mboch. You have been a “wife” too except that your mum and his mother and family dont really know you exist. You realise you have not just been washing the utensils but his d**k as well. Then tears of gulty get flowing down your chics. Its not because you are guilty of having slept with a “married/not your/ not there” man. Your worry is that you have been doing a lot for nothing. Nothing in every sense.

You then contemplate over working during the day and leaving to your “home” every other evening. You feel that this could give you some freedom to just have your life or even draw the “not there” man to your new home. But would the boss leave his mansions to your peasant level “home”? You then just stay calm and hope that things might change for the better. That they might stop washing their faces at the kitchen floor. Or may be some kids might just go to boarding schools so you do not have to wash as many clothes. So that you do not have to cook every other minute. The cycle continues, with the phases of “tell” or “not tell” being the most noticeable ones. Because we lack the courage.

Being a mboch is much stronger that you might think. We all might have been mboches in our own homes. What matters is whether you recognize that and what actions feel just right for you. Walk away if you can. This would be my subtle advice. Leave the utensils. Leave the floors to soak. Leave the heaps and heaps of clothes. Right at their doors. There will always be the same jobs same bosses or even better ones. Walk away today. If you gather that courage, start by saying no. Say NO when it matters and YES when it matters too. This is the real will power. The beauty manifests itself and the boss might want some more *wink*.

Sometimes I wonder how I feel about you,

Scared of these feelings because it’s still new,

I catch myself thinking of the best way to share,

Hoping you will return my confession showing you care

And then I catch myself again…

And drag my thoughts back to reality

I am back at square one, does this only happen to me?

Poems are so stupid I swear I would not do this,

But this is YOU, and you aren’t like anyone I have met

Your thought alone sends some sensations down my…

And am like, how much longer do I have to write, can I tell you yet?

When I come back from my thoughts I feel more secure but then i sleep

…and dreams of you occur

The dreams I have for you are so clear and vivid

I feel true happiness inside and that there is nothing to fear

People say dreams have underlying meanings and not to ignore them

I say we both know what they mean and now I want you to hear

Hear what I am about to say to you, feel it with my body, see it in my face, feel it at my heart

Hear it in my words and tone when we converse

On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a perfect 9

Claiming what would be rather mine

For in a distant future past, I heard ‘them’ sing

Tales of our storied past; to your engagement ring

There’s a life I always knew but never had

One I’d have loved to share with you but instead

I’m stuck alone in a dream where it should’ve been us.

Waking up to you and me

I’ve seen tears from the stars, felt emotion peak

You’ve seen the look in my eye, I need not speak

But love takes time, so what is this I feel?

I’ll call it now; lightning strike and kill.

This little dream of mine, all scantily clad

All out there, but still the best I’ve had. Ever.

I’ve wanted you forever

And against all odds, I’m still one minor feather

In a tidal wave of emotion;

A storm of furious passion

I’ve fallen hard; here to the fifth dimension

So while I fade from reality, will you watch me disappear?

Or come along with me while I draw you near

To this once special place, now deserted and cold

I need you here, for only you hold

That hint of magic; that pixie dust bold

And into a lost paradise, my heart bursts

So if I go back in time, in time to be your first

Lean in for that kiss, my lips; would you trust

These words when I say; it should’ve been us?

For right here, right now; it would’ve been us.