My supply has run out and I’m out of aces.I can’t keep selling trees, I should have had enough to call a lumberjack myself and have value for resource.Niliuza mti mia nane, ofcourse later I ended up rukaing the guy after I had sold 3 grown Eucalyptus and Grevillea trees.Chest Pains.But in my defence, I had just moved to a strange place and I did what needed to be done.There can only be lessons ,otherwise what are we doing ?I want to see what 3000 trees look like.

I talked to Josphat about any developments in our chicken rearing startup business and he assured me that the chains were in motion .We need 11k to acquire 100 chicks from Uzima Chicken and an additional 6k for chick feed from the same Preparation of the chicken coop is the tricky part because I’m strained on the finance.Ive been toying with the idea of hosting the chicks in one of the rooms in my house.I called Uncle Bonny and I’m lucky they were on the way out of town.I explained my predicament to Aunt Mercy and they helped me by buying me plenty of foodstuff.I honestly don’t need to worry about sleeping hungry for 3 months. A hungry man can’t do much in the shamba.I hope I can organize myself sooner.God is Great.

Today is a public holiday ,National Tree Planting ,courtesy of Dr ,Lies and in honour of all those lives perished in the floods resulting from heavy rainfall, poor planning of urban residential areas and collective irresponsibility,  my team(comprising of just me,and I’m hoping to see who else cares) will plant thirty seedlings .I already bought them from town.I cleared out a bush area around the lower section and my projection is that it can accommodate 120+ tree seedlings and I plan to plant 30 intermittently throughout the rainy season until we can expand the tree farm to cover more parts of the mash area.

My makeshift gutters will help me tap rainwater from my roof and save me the tedious trips to the well.I can get clean drinking water.I can’t bear to think of how tumultuous its going to be during the kiangazi period as I’ll have to make those uncomfortable trips through a jitani’s compound to the well. I’ll use my jiko today since I’m feeling babyboyish,  normally I’d do my ugali over the three stone kendo.I’m cooking ugali and omena.Today is mother’s day and I’ll send 1 sms message to celebrate all the mother’s in the world and women making a difference in the society. I miss you mum

Chaos is a ladder. – Littlefinger

So my situation analysis is that I can move into the house with immediate effect, and use the kitchen as my quarters.The rains have been somewhat overbearing and the lower part of the farm has been flooded by rainwater.Break point is that the whole farm part covered by water would be an ideal part for planting either bananas, eucalyptus trees or miwa.The strong winds brought down a tree and I intend to have it lumbered for timber.I ought to consult an actual fundi on replacement of the timber (eaten by bie*) before the thatching with mud,which I can only do after dealing with the wood fiasco.

Its not easy trying to make people understand that some decisions are unpolular but necessary. Men who ruled this world, or conquered this world did so by trusting their wits and decision making.I hope I live long enough to see the results of my now infamous decisions. I will bring glory and honour to my name, to my house and those with me  will reap the benefits as the rest of the world watches.

Preparation of the sukumawiki seedbed was done in earnest.I fear that I must have crowded the seeds during the planting, and this will be a problem once the seedlings sprout.I need to wait another fourteen days before I can do the transplanting to the lower parts of the farm .Before transplanting , weeding will be done in the small part that will be my vegetable garden.

Almost the end of the week and I might have just wasted through my food supply given to me by Aunt Mercy.I planted the beans , after two helpings and I’m looking forward to when I will harvest a few gorogoro*.My rice supply has gone to shit ,so has my makaa*.I might be forced to use the three stone traditional jiko soon .I don’t look forward to that.I’ve tried to look for construction work and its still not giving.

Sunday 21st of April , I spent the better part of the morning tilling my land (at least the part near the kahouse*).I planted the remaining part of the beans farm since I can’t do it for the whole farm as it would make it impossible for the chemical weeding of the maize ,without chomaing all my beans. Maybe I should also say that this is probably the last time chemical weeding is being applied to this farm.

Its apparent I dont have money to pay for my UDA membership and participate in the upcoming grassroot elections slated for 24th of this Month.I hoped that being a United Democratic Alliance grassroot election participant would be a great opportunity for my political career to take flight .Its funny that somebody like me can lack 2k, yani 16 dollars.I need a smartphone so that I can check my email and apply for jobs on Utest and other online websites.I am not used to not being able to afford my necessities and this is not going to be another of those years.I can finally focus on myself and my personal development in the hope that it will all work out into something worth my time and efforts.

I thought it would be easy to write a book, I might just end up writing a journal.

I specifically like men and women who tell me I cant.I like to see their faces when I prove them wrong.It’s not like I care what they think, im just saying,  when I eventually get my things going (even for self) ,most are sorry .Too proud to admit it, but damn ain’t it just beautiful sometimes.

My greatest problem lies in not feeling the need to disapprove people, prove them wrong or prove a point.Im like you, do you.I’m never one for seeking validation,I believe that those worthy enough to see the inside of my head , do eventually.Thats why I never fit in.I wasn’t made for a box,  I make the boxes too.I’m an outlier, extra ordinare.

I hate journals ,its like giving someone a sneak peak of your brain.I’ll remind my later self to get me one with a lock just incase I invent something and my Intellectual Property is stolen by a snoop.I’m  well past the age of inventing stuff, alright, except new ways of picking up baddies, haha.Why are people not inventing stuff anymore though ? Have we invented everything we can ? I’m thinking of leveraging AI to transcribe thought.You want to write it , just think it.Maybe finally I’ll be able to write my book.Maybe all hope for humanity hasn’t been lost.

Everytime I second guess myself, what I need to do and how much shit I’m gonna entertain along the way I remember why I’m doing whatever it is im obsessed with at that time.My purpose in this life, is  to lead the way. They denied Jesus the first time, didn’t they?That was not an analogy.Stories will be told of ages past, on a lonely road two paths diverged,  I looked at one where the route was beat, and the other quite green,and I , an outlier ,took the one less travelled,  and that made all the difference.

I dont have books I can read exactly , so I’ll probably reread my copy of   Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, My favourite book of this decade, gifted to me by the one time love of mine life, until she wasn’t. I’d tell you stuff about nice things sadly, but I’m tryna forget her and this wouldn’t be helping .Thanks.I think writing about my feelings helps me, I’ll try to do more writing,  less of bottling with the  hope that I’ll explode less going forward .

I’m currently obsessed with renovating my mother’s ushago house.Let me tell you about my mother, because I cant tell you about the house before.In 2004, mum running away from yet another abusive marriage took her life savings and bought some land in Migori.She built a small house , where me and her holed up for a while before sister joined us, called it home.I went to the local primary school having had to do a mid term transfer , you know how tricky these marriage stuff gets.Its a Luo temporary structure with a dash of modernity in the roofing ,and walls.The walls were first mud thatched then cemented.The roofing was done using corrugated ironsheets,  with a steel door for the main door as well as all six windows.She loved the light.And it showed even in her operations, transparent.We had a ka sugarcane farm and all my childhood memories are of me and friends, I can hardly remember their faces ,doing the most.

She didn’t live long enough to see the place turn out into what she envisioned. She succumbed to her illness.Fast forward , 20 years later, and I’m in a similar albeit different situation. It will give me support and strength as much as it gave her.I seek refuge in her safe haven , hoping that peace of mind shall come to me , as it did for her.Before the cruel hands of death took her away from me.

Through these renovations, I’m reaching into the darkness that is my past.Like today I carried 3 empty fertelizer bags , split them open , and with 4 inch nails and a stone, closed up the window spaces that had broken panes.I want to fix the sides of the mud thatched house .The heavy annual rains have really taken a toll on the walls and they are on the verge of caving in.When I get funds to return it to its former glory I know you will be happy.I know this is one way I can connect with you seeing as you graveside is the loneliest.I used to be bitter, the state of your grave used to bring me much grief .I gave him a piece of my mind , too caught up in living his present, building on the same with his current.I was there the year before last and let me tell you Maina, I cried.I promised myself that the next time I’m in Suba is to build a mouseleum .

I’m sorry my life hasn’t turned out the way you would have wanted . I’ve had to do what I need to do. I hope you understand , none of your siblings does.They have this analogy of ‘ i have washed my hands’ .I’ve heard it from 3 of them already , counting today.I wonder if you’d have also shared in the arsenal.I know they love me , and mean well, I think.  But none will ever understand me or what I can do , or why ? Quantify Intellingence.At times I think to myself , maybe I’d be a disappointment to you, but then I stop myself because I know the way I loved you, you’d have had your way.

The secret isn’t a secret anymore, I heard about him, the trickster who used to hit you black and blue .I mean the first one.Not funny ? Okay.I wanted to meet him so bad , even though he acted the way he did for 26 now .I got his number , followed up, and you know how relentless I get .I understand why you left him,and I dont blame you . that and why I have bad teeth.Can you imagine I almost turned into him when I was in second year uni, and it cost me the one girl who’s probably ever loved me for me.I think that truth saved my life .My aunty’s think that it affected my relationship with your second, well a relationship on its deathbed from inception , that news saved us.I stopped all the things I wanted to do, like change my name.Those judging our relationship don’t know how bad it could be and how easy I’ve tried to make it.

As I navigate these treacherous waters of the river I call my life.Pray for me , as I know you still do, for I have cried to God and got silence for a reply.I miss you so much and love you always.Your loving son, the only man who loved you truly in this life. I’ll be good .Okay I’ll try

Yours , Steady Hands

Trevor Maganda

The tap water is still running ,the clothes are still dripping,your fingers are cold,your feet numb,your waist exhausted.You now rinse buckets.The sun is shining generously and you think,it will only be a while before I come back to collect the clothes.You smile and stare knowingly at the bluish water that remained after washing the second hand jeans you got from the thrift store.Your dissatisfaction doesn’t end there.The lines snap and two hours of work crashes to the ground as you watch,albeit helplessly.The world comes crashing around you and you feel life sucketh out of you.You curse,the world,a wretched place but in the end,bend over the buckets once more.

He knows he messed up.From the very beginning,he knew he would.It was stupid of him to think that maybe just this time,maybe just this once he could do things differently.It was stupid of him to think he could do things right this time. Turns out he was wrong.Turns out things don’t go according to plan.Turns out an old dog cannot learn new tricks.Turns out you believed in him,you loved him and got nothing to show for it.

Okay, You told him that owning up to his mistakes was the first step in being a man.He wont try to redeem himself.He wont bask in the light of old glory.Its not the best relationship you guys have.Break it down and I doubt its even a relationship.You only recognise Best as a liqour brand.

You said you could change him.You said it was worth the try.When afterwards he saw him in you,he know you had both failed.Shared toxicity he called it.He didn’t want that for himself,neither did he want it for you.You were so good together,no pain,no hustle,no stress,no heartache,just plain old friedly love.For sometime,that was all you wanted,that was all that was needed. Somewhere in between priorities changed. Needs became wants.Yes.You heard me.Promises were made.Promises that could be kept but would not be nonetheless.The hearty laughter became awkward silence ,the warranted humour became scarce.He tried.Trust me.He tried.He made you smile when he actually wanted you to laugh your heart out.He made you feel normally important when you actually meant the world to him.He didn’t buy you flowers?He didn’t make enough time for you?He didn’t call you as often as he needed?He didn’t call you enough times?He didn’t tell you he loved you as much as he should have.He realised he had been unfulfilling.So unfulfilling that his redemption period had slipped right infront of his eyes.He left.He wated to see you happy.He wanted you to enjoy life.

He let go.Not because he didn’t love,but because he loved too much.Not because you didn’t mean anything,but because you meant the world to him.He loved.Still does.Does it matter now anyway?It doesn’t,It doesnt count when your hands are moving but are tied.You cannot build a house for last year’s summer.

Yours,Steady Hands,Trevor Maganda.