Kanyindo's Random Ramblings

8th March is my father’s birthday. Up until 7 years ago, it was always a celebration in our home, especially because he always took time to celebrate the women in his life: his wife and his three daughters.  It is a much less celebratory day, now, as each year is a harsh reminder that he is no longer with us. This year, I am determined to do something different with this day, which usually throws me into a pit of grief and despair. (Along with Christmas, my parents’ wedding anniversary, family birthdays, etc. The list is endless. The emptiness he left is vast and wide and infinite. Ugh. I miss him so damn much.) Our family, like so many others around the world, has dealt with so much grief recently. I can’t tell you the number of funerals, church services, burials I have attended, or not been able to attend in the past few months. It is exhausting. It can break you. Especially when the one person who would comfort you, or help you make sense of the madness, or tell you that everything

It goes without saying that 2020 has been one hell of a year. And we still have 2 months to go. Apart from the anxiety, the dark days, and hoping that my ears aren’t permanently deformed by everything they have to carry lately (mask elastic, earphones, earrings, kitchen sink etc), I’ve been dealing with the loss of several family members. In quick succession. Not being able to attend funerals, and then not being able to hug people if I can attend, has weighed heavily on me. I’m a hugger, so this pandemic is tough. What has been even harder is the fact that funerals, for me, are still very triggering. Every funeral I attend takes me right back to when we laid my Dad to rest. The hymns, the readings, the wreaths- I literally get transported back in time and have to remind myself to breathe. Every time someone I know loses a father, I want to hold them and tell them how sorry I am, that I understand that feeling of the earth falling out from under your feet. And I miss my Dad. Dear God,

Kainembabazi Gariyo Sabiti. 👑 See a Queen. LOOOOOK AT HER!!  First of Your Name, Eldest Child, Top of our Sibling Circle of Life. Always holding your younger siblings down... Although as if always tying down my FOMO... And always being supportive. And holding me up. See sisterly giggles. Again, tying down my FOMO. I am so blessed to have you in my life, for many reasons. There is no way I could ever list them. But an interesting one comes to mind. By the time I came along, our parents were so tired they didn't even flinch when, years later, I pierced my ears (again. And again. Aaaand again). My days of mini skirts and 6-inch heels fled in a blur and by the time I got my tattoos, Ma had pretty much set me free. You always said that, as the youngest girl. I got away with murder. And piercings. Anyway. Yeah ok maybe but this isn't about me.  Again, pinching my rib and holding down my FOMO. You, on the other hand, alwa

I’ve been feeling guilty for the longest time that I haven’t posted on my blog for AGES: I even started questioning whether I could legitimately call it a blog anymore, considering how long it had been since I was inspired to write anything worth sharing. But I woke up yesterday and came across an article detailing a toxic work environment and when I tell you I was TRIGGERED. I know that word is used so often these days, but some of the instances described in that article catapulted me back to a situation I found myself in, that I haven’t felt able to speak about publicly. Until now. I consider myself extremely blessed to have worked in different positions where I was able to pursue my passions and dedicate my talents, all the while working with incredible people and learning from the best in the business. I was transferred from a job I loved, and thought I was performing well at (if my performance reviews were anything to go by, anyway). I didn’t understand why I was being mov

So, I ended my last post with “Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.” Ha. Malaria.   The next day brought malaria. By the time I left work on Friday, I knew something wasn’t right.   First of all, I was freezing.   FREEZING.   Granted, I had been in a studio for a good hour or two, but I’m used to that.   And I rarely feel cold.   #Cold I got home, took off my shoes, wrapped myself in a blanket and collapsed on the couch.   Needless to say I had a rough night.   And never got to cook that delicious butternut squash I had such great plans for. Saturday found me hauling myself out of the house and straight to the doctor, who confirmed that I had malaria. Great.   As in, this is the last thing I need right now. I have suffered. I went back home and all I could do was drink water.   You know all the horrible symptoms that come with malaria:   aches and pains, zero appetite, that nasty slimy feeling in your mouth.   There was no way I was going to

Friday 17th May Today started off fantastic!  A friend of mine had brought me mangoes from the tree in her garden the other day, so I took them out of the fridge this morning and chopped them up to take to work for breakfast. Yummy in my Tummy. Apart from my boss trolling me on Twitter AGAIN (spreading malicious lies about me being spotted in KFC last night), this Friday looked like it was going to be a good one. Honestly.  You'd think he had better things to do than troll an employee. I swung by Blu Flamingo to hang out with the #NotRadio crew, thinking it would just take my lunch-hour, then I could come back and tuck into the delicious salad I had carried for my lunch.  No chance!  As soon as I got back to my desk, things got hectic and the lunch was forgotten.  Which explains why it is 5.30pm and I am grumpy as hell.  At least I've got something extra to look forward to when I get home, apart from the butternut squash and avocado that will accompany my di