On Being Loved at Home!

I decided to video call a close family member. I also decided to be bold about it — to ask, lovingly but directly, how it was possible that in an entire year, someone who calls themselves close family had no idea where I lived or how I was doing yet we lived barely 3 hours away.

Before I could finish making my point, he flipped it on me.

He wanted to know what I was doing in Nairobi.

How I was surviving.

My sources of income.

How I paid rent.

How I fed myself.

I laughed. Genuinely, deeply laughed.

Then he landed the real question:

“What do you have to do to really have people to take care of you?Ama nyinyi ni madem hufanya forex?“

Oh, I could do forex. I wouldn’t do anything small though — I’d own pools of mines with geeks commanding beasts of data, private clouds inaccessible by the public, and blow every crypto earned on something delightfully silly, just because I could. God willing, of course. But the real gift was that his question handed me my answer on a silver platter, and I took it with a very big spoon.

Daktari would be proud.

The reason my close family had been keeping a polite distance was because they assumed I was a forex trader. The reputation precedes me, apparently. My market value is very cheap, everyone knows this and I brought this upon myself, so are the critics.

But here’s the thing — I haven’t paid rent in a year. No arrears either and unlike my previous management that was more pressed on my sources of income than my wellbeing, I’m treated like a big baby.

Unlike previous Management, sends me warm greetings often, asking if I’m alright, mentions that my mommy has passed her regards, and lets me garden on the rooftop so no one goes hungry or get bored.

Not bad for a “forex trader” right?

Let me tell you how I actually survived.

When I was homeless, Sam had his personal chef make our meals for every day for a week, a full household to keep me company and a comfortable place to sleep. He made sure everything with Tsavo was handled with all due legal diligence despite my not being for it; just incase. He had his personal trainer and security advisor walk with me throughout the whole legal process.

Before that it was bleak — until I had Faith.

Faith was rarely physically around, but she gave me a home, a family, and the loveliest cats. Faith provided before I even knew to ask. My beautiful wardrobe is basically a love letter from her. Whenever friends called asking where I was, I’d say,

“I’m at my friend’s. She’s away on a business trip.”

Which was true — it was just a very long business trip and her returns were full of fruits. She is our private partner in growth and the best Advocate of the High Court of Kenya specialising in

• legal compliance,
• governance, and
• risk management.

Then I found a place to call my own.

Empty space, like a fresh canvas. And every single day,in the House of Mvua -Mwanamvua fed me the way she fed her boys — without question, without condition, on a strict diet,constant play and regular yoga classes where she basically recited, “let it go!”

Then one day, my late grandfather’s brother arrived with a set of beautiful plates and my very first jiko. By African culture, he is to act as my husband until I get married. He was teaching me how a good husband should behave.

He took me on a road trip to show me land he had acquired in his youth, land for sale which he now trusts me to help him lease. He reminded me so much of my grandfather that I could have cried. We had nyamchom takeaway to christen the new plates, and I later took Sam along for a feast to the same joint— though with my jiko and no food to put on it yet, his private personal chef still ended up feeding us- for at-least a week.

Some things never change, and I love that about Sam.

I should pause here and mention the lawyer.

When Tsavo instructed a lawyer who, according to my very invested friends, looked exactly like my ex — same face, same name, I am simply in denial — to ask me to retract my story that incriminates and damages their brand reputation, in exchange for Kes 100K+ to replace what was stolen from me, I said No.

Not straight-forward but I too gave them a list of what it would take- a written apology to Kituo Cha Sheria for wasting both Martins time. The whole experience was a distress to everyone, but very necessary… I’ve come to agree.

I went through the materialistic things I had lost, not much-Honestly, what I was being offered was more than enough money.

Millitary-Muscles reminded me that I had won and should take the deal because the only thing standing between me and the cold floor at that point was Faith’s clothes… Only that, I wasn’t looking to fight.

I was not in a war with anyone and that made me sleep at night. Infact, the whole experience felt like Exodus and God had taken the opportunity to show me His own ways of providence- the Israelite story made the cut but i’m a millennial living in the late stages of digital age and early dawns of experience age.

With my history of asthma, I somehow didn’t catch pneumonia. My only real loss was that my body burned every bit of stored fat just to keep me warm. I have been a little skinny since.

A small price to pay… (but I know the babies will come with fat.)

Then, because that is simply the way my life works, my sister- Kaye furnished my entire house with everything I needed, without my asking. Every single existence of my home brings me joy. My pretty little office with a bedroom, a kitchen and a garden. The great community around only christened my settlement in KItengela. We built it brick by brick.

My other sister-Leah had bought me the tools I had been dreaming about for content creation without my asking- a lovely Kingjoy 360 Tripod and a Canva subscription for my designs.

Why would I get bored?

For my Capcut, I found myself in one of those Alvin Telegram channels where we get free premium apk in exchange of honest personal reviews to make our experience better. Alvin doesnt care what we do with the app and I use Capcut to make short videos that I will watch while offline, rarely posting the good ones only for reviews but locking the best in my clouds, only to be accessed by my genie.

My phone was a gift.

And if it runs out of data, the Bereans will notice before I do and sort it out — just like they did when my laptop nearly gave up on life and quietly brought it back. Bro. Dave removed Windows and replaced it with Linux. My Lenovo feels as good as new and only needs charge when I feel hungry.

I love my laptop, it reminds me of my father and mother. It’s the last thing I inherited from them, before they divorced, never to see or talk to each other not even through third parties… not that they hated each other, they had to make and stick to the tough decision of letting go.

One day, I will have to let the memory fade away with it when I get a new Apple. Nothing fancy. Something simple to inspire my computing experience

If I told you I have never met the person who pays for my medical insurance — my expensive SHA medical insurance — you would ask for proof. That there are people who are genuiley concerned about my basic health?

I didn’t ask for help. In-fact, it was my HR/Finance lady that notified me of double medical insurance. The company could no longer motivate me with free medical insurance.

not just me…

But I know at least twenty others who also don’t have to worry about their health because of this one quietly generous human, so I’m told; but private word is that, private people come together to make this possible for us and our generous man covers for them.

Ahsante kwa kazi!

So. How have I survived a year, jobless in Nairobi, and somehow felt like the richest person I know?

My family.

My friends.

Ni God manze! (Honestly, take it up with God.)

All they ever ask is whether I’m okay and how they can help. If I need company, they leave their own spaces to come and be with me. And most beautifully, they ask how they can be part of building Nnalolile. The sheer belief in my dreams fuels me for days, months…years.

Most of the time, all I need is their time — and they have more than enough of it for me.

Always looking out for me.

Always listening to me.

Always learning how to be better everyday with me.

God cannot possibly let me complain, can He?

I hung up before I remembered I hadn’t invited him to my virtual birthday party — hopefully, the one my friends and family are already organising for me, bless them.

Sad feelings, I have found, are easily cured by sleep. So I was tucking myself into my very large, very comfortable mattress when my phone beeped.

An MPESA notification.

From a friend I had reconnected with on Facebook — someone from primary school, sent back to me by the internet and the grace of timing. He reminds me of the best memories in Lugulu. How we had learned to take care of each other like brothers and sisters.

With the MPesa transaction came a note:

“Your Snapchat clouds is blowing. Keep up the momentum.”

“I did’nt know you follow me on snapchat!” I teased.

“I haven’t been on snapchat for years!”

I smiled at my ceiling for a while before I fell asleep, and I sleep thanking God that each and everyday, He puts people in my life who look after me, speak good into my world and smile when they see me alive.

I’m loved where I call home and its full of Yvi friends & family.