Reach One Bring One (ROBO) Membership Campaign

STORY OF MY LIFE DISCOVERYING MY PASSION “We often have to start small and my challenge was making furniture that would fit into those small bedsitters where,

God forbid, if you had to fart considering their tiny windows. ”

-Rtr. Paul Karuri (Picasso) Rotaract Club of Nairobi Parklands ordinary furniture with the space saving traits of small furniture? That is space saving furniture that would not just save space but also have multiple functionality. So I bought my first tool, a jigsaw and later a drill (ndio nitoboe hii maisha) and made a table that transforms into a shelf from know-how I gained from the internet. Immediately I was done I knew that Nobody can stop Reggae!

Since then it has become a passion and though I’m just getting started I’ve been able to pick up a few things: 1. Find what makes you happy and do it, it does wonders for the mind, body and soul. 2. We live in a world where information is literally at our fingertips… make good use of it. 3. Work hard and work smart. 4. It’s okay to ask for help, no man is an island (see! no one can stop reggae). 5. Believe in yourself.

I never thought I’d be sharing more than memes let alone inspiration but here goes.

It was about time I moved out. I’d spent what felt like a lifetime in traffic moving from work(Lavington) to Rongai where I live (I swear I could feel my hair growing in traffic) and having to wake up at witching hours just to get to work on time was a pain in the caboose. I’d also get back home late, tired and hungry (as usual). Moving out isn’t always easy though and you can’t just up and leave, you need a few things like a mattress to protect yourself from the unforgiving floor of a Kikuyu landlord’s bedsitter. Put in a bed and you’re good to go, in fact put in a few seats and you’re living like a king and that’s when it hit me. I would make my own furniture! I mean I’ve always been good with my hands (wink wink) and this would allow me to customize to my taste.

We often have to start small and my challenge was making furniture that would fit into those small bedsitters where God forbid if you had to fart considering their tiny windows.

MUTUMIA, A WOMAN

-Rtr. John Mugo Rotaract Club of Dedan Kimathi University of Technology (DeKUT)

Mutumia, A woman... In the past considered as, “One whose lips are sealed”, As the norm, then used to be, “Silence is a woman”, Whose effect is still reminiscent, A pungent smell that hovers in the air, And even with the strides in civilization, Her symbol still remains passed by time, The vile brutality she undergoes, in this new world, Still amazes me to date, Mutumia... Very sensitive in nature, Fools label them to be weak, But don’t be deceived by looks, I’ve seen hordes of men, Numb brutes and savage beast, Calm at her presence, Rogue men unearth from their veils, And with her,they indulge vulnerability, They oblige in the peace she is, ‘Cause her scent has something, Something their vile nature comprehends not, But delights to be within, And with the chaos within their soul, They find solace in her being,

Mutumia... A woman is symbolic, Perhaps the purest of souls to venture earth, ‘Cause of all earthly beings, She was meant a gift, A visitor to ensue companionship, Yet she undergoes repression, Yet she does so in silence, Whilst her idea encompasses life, Without her the world lacks purpose, To conceptualize the idea behind her being,

Would be of great approach, Mutumia, She carries the seed of life, Yet I’ve seen her ideas silenced, She takes one for humanity, Hoping that sanity will prevail, What a bitter lump to swallow, The more we are ignorant to her idea, The more the world suffers, Cause in her composure lies the reason, To traverse each season, She’s pretty symbolic, One to be respected, A woman...

A LETTER TO MY BEST FRIEND...

-Rtr. John Mugo Rotaract Club of Dedan Kimathi University of Technology (DeKUT)

Some of y’all can’t help but want to feel strong, Projecting stable personality to facade the depressed beings hidden inside, Undergoing unending fights to recover from past trauma, We put up vague smiles while succumbing inside, Pressed by the sheer magnitude of projected culture,

One that taught us to be strong, but not express, So much so we always want to be in control, We’d rather die than confess being victims of personal tragedy, Whilst we undergo mental breakdowns, panic attacks,

We subject our being to trivial anxiety, just cause being real is such a big deal, We risk our performance, mental well being to look ok,

To seem likeable, I’ll no longer remain strong, I know I am, but for once I’ll be weak, For once I’ll dine with my insecurities, And since you’ve become my favourite journal, so shall I write on you, Sometimes it does kill me, knowing that someone once left me, Can’t help but wonder why I wasn’t enough, I know they weren’t made for me, still kills of what they did, I’m ready to face this milestone with you though,

Assertive enough to know that you’ll help, Life has been a somewhat catastrophic love story, And purpose a battle over two longings, My heart and mind are constantly torn apart, Anxiety runs my veins, will I ever make it?

Will I ever assert my being, I’m indebted to amount to something, harbouring a grandeur gesture of whom I should be, I’m yet to understand me,but somehow still manifesting me, thinking out loud, Hopefully you’ll help me, Vulnerability has never felt so good.