The shining stars,

The glowing moon,

The blowing winds,

Seasons come, seasons go,

Not even the night gown could hide,

Hide the curves her body had formed,

So perfect that her smile could be seen through her sleepy eyes,

Not even her father could stop a night thrust with her in mind,

She had grown into a full bodied African woman.

Her dreams were to wear the white gown down the aisle,

With a bunch of roses in her hands…


Her father, the renowned politician who secretly had sired more than a dozen,

Her father, the man she trusted with her life,

Her father…. the last she remembers was his last moan like a bull in the slaughter,

His body full of sweat.


Her rose was torn, she was in pain, she was disappointed, she hoped she could join her late mother,

Her father, the man she loved, how could she love another?

Her father, the man she trusted, had he done the same to her elder sisters?

Her elder sisters, is that why they never returned home after they left for college?

Is that why her mother had died of depression?

It must have been the emotional abuse…

She thought of her younger sister, she was angry at her elder sisters.

She had dreams of wearing a white gown, but now they are crushed…

She wanted to walk down the aisle, her father by her side,

To marry the man she loved, and give him her fresh rose…



She is dripping red, her gown is stained, she cannot love, she cannot trust,

She is out in the streets, draining foolish men of their wealth,

She has nothing to lose, men like her father, ready to prey on the juicy roses belong to hell,

She bleeds, she hurts, but she is on a mission,

Perhaps one day someone will capture the beauty in her, the bleeding rose,

But not today, today she’s drowning herself in some expensive whiskey as she plots against her father,

She has done enough of waiting, she just saw her younger sister coiling in her room crying after her father left the room,

Today she will put an end to all the defiling,

Today the whiskey will be her best friend,

Today will be the last of him…

Humming, “Daddy don’t touch me there” by Queen Ifrica.

Story recreated from a previous blog post I wrote… Bleeding Rose

Story Analysis

The story is based on real life events showcasing the impact of domestic violence.

The girl’s dreams of a church wedding are crushed.

She is left hopeless, an alcoholic and a sex worker.

She realizes that her mother must have been emotionally abused in the relationship and that’s why she died of depression.

The girl seeks to murder her father after failing to cope with reality and after he defiles her younger sibling.


Photography: Iconic Media Ventures on Instagram

Iconic Media Ventures on facebook

Concept: rie_the_muse on Instagram

Makeup: sfx_by_rie on Instagram

ALL FOR against_gbv




“Get the straps babe, and don’t forget to include the gel, we will need it….ride.”

That was Becky’s text to Joseph. She had become his favorite destruction.He could not explain what exactly he felt was fascinating about her. She was nowhere close to half as beautiful as his wife, and neither was she in shape and well toned like his wife Rebeccah was. Not to mention her blonde state of mind, ever slow to understand. But probably it was the way she made her grind moves on his surf board, rough. Her primitive moves with her mouth on his weapon with her eyes wide open staring at him as if demanding a reaction. Her uncoordinated moves with her hands on his sweaty body…none of that could make sense to an outsider. These were reasons as to why he would sneak into Becky’s room.

Rebeccah was with child, all her pregnancies always weighed heavily on her and she could not do much around the house. Getting to work was a real struggle for her and she was contemplating quitting her job this time until her baby was born and was big enough. To her shock, her husband did not agree with the idea…

“You want to quit your job and wait for me to provide everything for you. You got yourself pregnant this time so you have to work for it. I already have enough responsibilities and as long as you have your two legs, two hands, and your brains, get yourself busy with work.”

That was Joseph’s response and that was why she was still at work despite her condition. She did not want to argue with him, she already had enough scars on her body from his beating. She lost her pregnancy some years back when Joseph pushed her and she rolled down the staircases which resulted to a miscarriage. The fight was as a result of her questioning him on why he had gone home with a feminine scent all over his body and had no tie with him yet he had left the house with one. She did not want a repeat of events so she went blind on everything absurd that he did every time she was expectant.

On Call

Becky; She hasn’t left the house yet it seems like she is going to be here all day. Maybe a change of plan…Tonight? 

Joseph; What’s her excuse?

Becky; She looks a little pale.. the old woman looks like she’s going to collapse any          moment… 

Joseph; Nkt! She will not perform and now she is preventing me from sneaking in for our moment….

Becky; (Laughing sarcastically)… how did you even manage to shoot that baby in there? No one can do it for you like Becky does, I can already see myself rubbing that wood…my twins are already yelling…

Joseph; you sure know how to get my head up, see you tonight… I will figure a plan…perhaps pick a fight like I always do. Then sneak into your rooms when she leaves for bed angry… Who wants to share a bed with an angry and boring woman… 

Who is Becky? She is Joseph’s and Rebeccah’s house-help.

That fateful night, Joseph went home drunk and picked a fight with his wife Rebeccah over unfed dogs. Their son Ethan and daughter Belinda were resting with Rebeccah after their evening meal slightly before prime time news, Becky was busy clearing up the dining room. That’s the time Joseph got home and executed his plan.

Belinda and Ethan left for their rooms while Becky was watching the quarrel between the two, she had expected it. Rebeccah was hurt and left for her room, she could not take in the humiliation. She knew it was wise of her to leave the argument and go to bed and not wait for him…she had always suspected of the affair, but she was not strong enough to question. She did not want to loose her unborn baby, she could not walk out of the marriage, her job was not sustainable enough. She could not guarantee her children a future if she walked out, she had to take in the beating almost every night, her body had become his punching bag. She had thought of getting herself a T shirt printed “Punching Bag” and wear it every night. For the sake of her children, she held on to the bitter life.


Their firstborn son George was in college, he opted for hostel accommodation despite the campus being a few kilometers away after he caught his father with Becky on a day he had decided to go back home from school earlier than usual. He did not mention it to his mother because he did not want to break her heart. He had always known how much she had suffered in the marriage, the beating she received and the insults. He had always wondered why his mother stayed, but had never gathered the courage to ask.


Ethan, the second born, disturbed by everything that had happened that night, the night of the planned attack, decided to visit George early the following morning, his thoughts were scattered when he was crossing the road towards the bus station. Unfortunately, he met his untimely death.


She was in primary school, had always witnessed her father’s violent behavior. More than anyone else, she had seen her mother cry, she always wiped her tears, hugged her and comforted her with “It will be okay mum…you have me, Ethan, George, and the little baby in your tummy.” That would however make Rebbecah want to cry more but she had to act strong. Nobody apart from her mother,and father knew where the mark on Belinda’s thigh had come from. Belinda had always believed that it was birth mark, but it was a burn from a hot iron box that fell on her when she was a toddler. She had crawled into the scene when Joseph and Rebeccah were fighting one morning and accidentally the iron box that had been left unattended fell on the little Belinda.


It was after the loss of Ethan that Rebeccah felt that she had had enough. She had no idea where she was going to start, but she just left. Belinda and George had always hoped for the moment their mother wold break free, she had grown too blue. They had feared for her health. They had seen her take BP pills everyday even though she lied to them that the pills were supplements for the pregnancy. They had all hoped for the moment they would all walk out and start afresh. It was a new dawn for them. As for Joseph, nobody cared, apparently Becky left also, he had his due to pay…



#DomesticViolenceAwareness: Notice the consequences on both the direct and indirect victims.



To start with, I am not going to give a statistical analysis of the domestic violence cases in Kenya because majority of the cases go unreported.

Growing up, I have always witnessed cases of domestic violence and at some point I thought that it was so normal and right. At that time, nobody used to care bout these things and when you asked why it happened, as a kid, an adult would always twist you out of the questions and make you feel bad about asking like, “achana na mambo ya wenyewe.” or maybe it was also because of the way the victims have always worn a happy face even the morning after a heavy attack until it looks so normal and okay. Imagine playing with your friends as kids at their home, and have their mum prepare all of you a snack before you leave in the evening. Less than an hour later you hear their father beat up the same kind woman for reasons you could not ask. I do not know why I never asked my friends what they felt about it, or maybe it was the way they came to get us out to play and everything seemed okay.

Today am in my 20’s and I have witnessed numerous cases and guilty I have not done anything substantial to help. I have seen the way the kids (back then) we grew up with, whose parents kept physically abusing each other have turned out. They are either in unstable marriages, are separated, are abused, or abuse their spouses.


To take action, my next blogs will be wholly based on domestic violence. I will be using real cases but no real names will be given. There will be a lot of special effects make-up in cases which injuries were involved.

I will be informing you on where to find help. One very good example of where to find assistance is at Kenyatta National Hospital_ Gender Based Violence Recovery Center. The initiative was by her excellency the first lady Margaret Kenyatta. The services offered at a fee include; counseling, legal aid, and economic empowerment. Sexual Violence Victims are treated for free.

(I know the Kenya Police services have given a deaf ear to victims so relax, its not them that i will recommend but they will be involved in the legal procedure).

Feel free to share cases you know of via Email, Direct Messages, or even on whatsapp. Contacts are on my card attached above. Thank you to those that already trust me with stories. Let’s do this together!!!

#PS: Read the articles ( Love&Murder, Bleeding Rose, and The Lover. They are all on Domestic Violence).


Chapter 5

Zanei seemed so preoccupied with thoughts as she leaned back on the black leather sofa with a mug of hot coffee in her arms.

Mengo could not tell whether her questions had irritated her or they had brought back memories. She had traveled all the way for answers and she could no longer wait. She had hoped that her aunt Zanei would tell her why they fell apart with her mother, why she left that day 8 years ago without saying hello, and the meaning of the phone call her mother had received.

Zanei felt the weight on her chest, what business had she with coming in between a mother and her daughter. But what if Mengo learnt of the truth later and hated her too for withholding such vital information.

How could she tell Mengo that her mother had another lover, ten years younger than her, whom she secretly sneaked into the house when no one was around. What if she told Mengo that her trying to warn her mother against the affair was the reason for their fall out. What if she told Mengo that on that fateful day her father had found out about the affair and confronted her mother. What if Mengo learnt that her mother’s lover had followed her father and stubbed him to death on the same day. Wait, her father had been long dead and buried, how would she react to the news!!!

Mengo would hate herself for blaming her father while her mother was the reason. She would learn that what her father did was an act of jealousy but he had gone too far by injuring her mother.

Zanei was about to start the whole narration when a phone call came through to the house. The house assistant had reported that a young man by the name Moond wished to speak to Mengo. Zanei observed how excited Mengo got, how she blushed all through the conversation, and how quick she was to request her to accompany her to the hospital.

Love, Zanei thought as she observed how Mengo had forgotten all her worries and focused on Moond….it must be one mysterious thing. It could bring you joy or it could kill. She made a promise to herself that Mengo will never come to learn of anything of what had happened. She would call her sister Nyeza and wire all the amount demanded by the blackmailer. She would then hook her up with a job abroad and help her get citizenship. As for Mengo, she would switch schools and live with her.

Her move would give Nyeza a new beginning. As for Mengo, she would have the opportunity to visit Moond as often as she wished and vise-verser.

She did not know how she would make the questions fade from Mengo but she was going to do something immediately even though she had no idea what…

Mengo was too young to get a distorted image of love…Zanei bit her lip.

On their way from the hospital, Zanei gave Mengo a warm embrace and whispered to her ears “love is a beautiful thing for the wise”….


Chapter 4

“…it’s already time to renew our contract. This time round, you have to double the amount. You have two weeks or else your precious daughter will get to know what an ev… Two weeks!!” 

Nyeza tried to ring back the caller but he had already hang up. She had perfectly managed to silence ‘them’ for 8 years and now things were getting out of hand. Two weeks was such a short time. If the news got to Mengo, she would never look at her the same again. All the while, she had played the perfect mother to her daughter apart from the times she brought men home. The men, these men she occasionally met were her way out, the feeling of guilt she had carried with her for 8 years kept catching up with her and her only solution was to hook-up with men that knew nothing of her past. “Why did they have to call me on the same day my daughter made a weird move in the morning, could she have an idea about this, why has she not come back yet??” Nyeza was calculating all this in her head. Immediately, she picked up her car keys and drove to her daughter’s school. She sensed that something terrible was happening.

Mengo slowly put down the receiver and watched her mother drive away, she had wanted to tell her that she climbed back to the house through her bedroom window but then she was too disappointed to utter a word. Mengo had been in the house a while before the phone call. Her intention was to call Moond’s house but then a call had come in just before she did. It was not in her nature to use the handset in her room to listen to a call made to their home telephone but that day out of curiosity, she picked and listened. What kind of business would her mother be doing with the monster behind the call. No, wait, who is the real monster here, what was her mother hiding from her that required such a threat??? What did she do???… He meant evil, why would anyone call her mother evil??… Who was her mother anyway???…

On the dinner table, there was a note for Nyeza WHAT DID YOU DO MUM??? I LISTENED TO THE CALL… By the time she found it, Mengo was long gone and half of her clothes were missing from her closet, and so did her piggy bank. It was approaching 9 PM, and the bus was only a few kilometers gone, she was getting hungry and so with the first stop she bought herself coffee and a chicken bugger. She promised herself that she would call Moond’s house again immediately she got to her destination. Her mother had once told her of her aunt who lived in a different county but never mentioned her again. Mengo had a picture of her and had managed to collect her address from her mother’s study. Her mother never talked of her, and from what she observed, her mother and her aunt had fought over something years back.

Mengo had planned her escape destination way back and had always waited for the moment she would have a huge fight with her mother. At that moment, she would go to the aunt her mother never talked about. That is exactly where she was headed to, she hoped that her aunt would recognize her and would accept her and listen to her before letting her mother know of her whereabouts. Most of all, she hoped that her aunt would have an idea of what the caller was talking about. She was almost convinced that it could be the reason her aunt and her mother had fallen out.

It was not hard locating her auntie’s house, it was only a short distance away from the stage which only cost her a few coins to board a tricycle. It was 5 am in the morning and the entrepreneurs were already up judging from the expensive cars that were leaving the estate gate. Leaving the house at the wee hours of the morning to do what one loves is the kind of life Mengo hoped to achieve when she grew up. If not leaving the house, it would be waking up to flex her body with a work out routine and then get down on her scripts.

The next two hours were spent exchanging embraces and wiping off tears of joy…. her auntie Zanei had last seen her when she was 8 years old. Precisely the last day Mengo saw her father….about a week after the day Mengo had found her mother lying in a bloody pool, but she had only appeared briefly and left without saying hello to Mengo.

Her auntie had to leave for work but she made sure that her house assistant would make Mengo comfortable.

After soaking herself in the floral scented bubble bath, she sat by the bedside and dialed the number she had copied on her notebook. A husky voice received the call and Mengo quickly asked if she could speak to Moond. She hoped that he was around, she had even withdrawn from the face recognition assignment, all she wanted to know was whether Moond was okay. If only she could just hear his voice… “am sorry you cannot speak to him, he got an attack while in school and has been transferred to Mayo hospital, thank you for calling”…  For a moment Mengo thought the receiver was rude for hanging up on her yet she’s the one who made the call but then her fears had been  confirmed. It was rumored that Moond lived with epilepsy and it was one of the reasons she had feared to entertain any form of relationship with him. Right now, she needed to see him, she felt the need to be by him, he had devoted to help her out without question, all she could do now was to be by his side…. “Mayo, hospital??… I’m in Mayo Estate!!!”  Mengo thought to herself. A certain type of excitement mixed with relieve and confusion caused a wave through her body… the type of wave you get when you know you have a chance to see someone you care about, someone who gives you the goose bumps, someone who makes you smile even before receiving their call… Was she finally falling for Moond?






Chapter 3

Mengo woke up unusually early the following morning and left the house an hour before the usual time the bus came to pick her up. Hastily but carefully she opened the door and ran towards Moond who was waiting for her in his black ducati monster 1200 that he had recently acquired with his savings. The meet up arrangements had been made the previous night and Moond had spent the entire night planning on every detail on how he would impress Mengo. It was probably the high time to prove to her that he deserved more than a friend-zone, he had gone all the way to throw in his favorite Fiji Fresh cologne and brought with him two mugs of home-made vanilla tea. Apparently, he worked at a coffee shop off school hours and the joint was known to have the best Teas and coffees in the area.

They finally got to Moond’s basement which doubled up as a garage and his work studio. He hoped they could spend the time holding up a warm conversation and get to watch her lips form the favorite curve he loved on her exposing the dent that lay beautifully between her upper milk teeth. He hoped he could watch her big beautiful eyes glitter with delight as he pulled his romantic side smile that would make her blush. Now was not the time. Mengo was too focused on helping him dust off his computer and get started with the face recognition. Disappointingly, the systems were down and time was running out. Before long, the bus was was hooting to pick up Moond and it immediately hit Mengo that she had not carried her lunch but the thought faded too fast to bother her. She was too busy trying to pack up her things to notice that Moond had faded into the entire house and was back with two lunch boxes and his back pack strapped on his left shoulder.

Mengo hated chemistry classes which apparently on that day was a double session. She pulled out her draft and continued with her script.


The MAN in BLACK walks slowly behind WAMBO at a distance.


( she climbs up the bridge barriers as tears roll down her cheeks)

I cannot take it any more. This is the third time it has happened to me. Why me??

How do I even explain this to my mother, she already has enough troubles of her own (she lets out an angry roar).


(Runs towards WAMBO panicking after secretly following her all the way from the clinic)

Do not do it WAMBO. Whatever it is you can always share with me. I have been your best-friend since childhood. You can trust me.

Before MINDY gets to WAMBO the MAN in BLACK grabs WAMBO blocking her mouth with a white piece of cloth with his left arm and points a Glock 19 Pistol at MINDY with the right arm.

Before she could write her next line the bell rang and the class was over. It was always her way of escaping from this world. Her mother knew nothing about her writing skill and she had safely hidden it from her to avoid the lengthy conversation on putting her education first. Her mother Nyeza was still old school when it came to career choices and education matters.

It was already evening and Mengo was pissed that she could not get sight of Moond even after waiting for him by the gate for almost an hour. She could not understand why he would lose interest so fast in the first task she had requested him to help her out with. He did not even go looking for her after school as he had always done and neither had he thrown silly paper notes to her as he teasingly did in every last class telling her how beautiful she had looked that day. It was very much unlike Moond to go silent like that. She now had to walk home, she had obviously missed the bus and besides that, she had her mother to face later and explain why she had left so early without a word and with no breakfast and lunch. As she was walking, one of the guys she often saw hang out with Moond approached her. She couldn’t help but notice that he had two bags with him and one of them looked so much like Moond’s bag. She was hopeful and thought that he was still around only to be hit with the words, “hey Mengo, are you also going to visit Moond. Its really unfortunate what happened to him”… “Its unfortunate what happened to him??? What happened to him?? Where?? When?? How?? Why Today???” Mengo almost asked these questions loudly but she was too shocked to utter a word. Her voice at that very moment had been swallowed by mixed feelings of fear, sorrow, guilt, anxiety, curiosity that had engulfed her suddenly. For a moment she felt her breath trapped in her lungs and could not be expelled.


Chapter 2

She, her mother Nyeza, had always hated the idea of bringing home another man in the presence of Mengo… Her daughter would always throw in a nasty attitude at all her male guests and most of them would never talk to her again afterwards….

This time, the figure of the man besides her mother had scared the hell out of Mengo… Never in her life had she imagined her mother taking the “single” matter to the direction she had. According to Nyeza, she had tried her best to keep their affair secret but he had insisted on meeting her daughter. Nyeza had no much of a choice, probably he was the one, she thought. Besides, according to stories she had heard, men of his origin were never scared of a woman with off springs sired by another male.

Mengo tried to pull a smile but her already reddened face betrayed the anger she was trying to bottle up. It was of no use responding to his seemingly fake greetings. One slight slip of a word from her mouth would be followed by a stack of F words.

She could have ran away as she had always done after a heated argument with her mother as she had always done in the previous encounters, but she decided to stay. She kept slapping herself to ensure she wasn’t dreaming only to realize that she was more than woke.

He was probably in his late 70’s.He looked rich but had driven in in her mother’s car. Not to mentioned of how ugly he looked with his big fat stomach tucked in an expensive looking shirt and baggy blue jeans… His shirt was three buttons down and Mengo could see the molds of grey hair on his chest. His bald head and chubby cheeks did not make the situation any better. Probably the ugliest creature on earth, Mengo thought as she walked up the spiral staircases fitted with a magenta velvet carpet…

Some inner voice kept whispering to her that she had seen that man before, but she kept ignoring it until she could not take it any more…. she spent the whole night trying to recall where she had seen that face but failed miserably. Luckily, her friend Moond, the skinny guy in her class who had pursued her but had to fit into her friend-zone, had cracked into a system that could look up and match faces…


Chapter 1

The steaming kettle had been hissing for hours before Mengo realized how absorbed she had been. She had just come from school and as usual her mother had left her enough pieces of arrow roots that would go with tea before she sat for her homework.

When she snapped back, it was already minutes past 7pm… She walked slowly to turn off the gas cooker but was destructed by the leaking tap. She thought for a while, and after pouring herself a mug of ginger tea and entertaining herself to a plate of the mother natures’ providence, she sat down and observed the tap keenly.

The sound made by each drop as it gracefully landed on the sink lingered in her head and brought along memories she had for a long time tried to fight.

She was only 8 years old when she walked home from school excited to inform her parents of the school trip. The rain had been patient enough to allow her get to the house before it started pouring heavily. She recalled hearing the tap running and weird movements in the kitchen so instead of setting herself at the dinning table she headed to the kitchen where she found her mother lying in a pool of blood and her father holding a big piece of wood.

Years had passed and she had never dared to ask her mother what had happened that day nor where her father had disappeared to. She always feared that if she asked, she would ruin the joy she saw every day on her face. She knew that her father had done something terrible to her but always wondered why she had chosen to stay quiet about it. Every time anyone asked her mother of the scars on her chin, she told them that she had fallen while cleaning up the house. Mengo had learnt to flow with it without question….

The door bell brought her back to reality and as she headed for the door, a sudden and strange fear filled her for a second. She leaned forward and turned the knob slowly as though opening for a stranger yet she had heard her mother’s car door alarms go off.On opening, two figures stood infront of her, one of her mother, the other of…..

Sunshine Blogger Award…#Issa! Nomination

yeey! team, I have always believed in the beauty of following a stranger and enjoying the new package of lessons and wisdom that follow. This time it has resulted to somebody recognizing my work and feeling that my blog is worth the sunshine blogger award.

I have been nominated by an amazing blogger who is quite versatile in her work. she is one open minded lady who will make you see the world in a different perspective and triggers you to do more than just survive. I was blown my of her articles on weddings when she asks why not be extraordinary and involve the kids from Children homes in your wedding if you really care. She has a charming vibe evident from her feedback on your work. Go check out her awesome work:), Cafe Avec Twali

What the award is about;

The Sunshine Blogger Award

The sunshine award is given by bloggers to other bloggers who are inspiring, positive, and creative.

Rules of the award

1 .Shout out to the blogger who nominated you with a link to her blog.

2. Answer questions given by the blogger.

3. Nominate 11 bloggers for the sunshine award , with links to their blogs.

4. Don’t forget to notify your nominees.

5. Come up with your own questions and tag 11 other bloggers nominating them to do the same.

6. List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Awards logo in your post.

My Answers;

Whats your experience with blogging so far?

Blogging has given me a space where I can escape to when I need to express my thoughts. I was never interested in traffic initially but when I did, getting no-bloggers to read is a headache.

What topic would you love to see more bloggers discuss?

That has to be Patriarchy especially in Africa where women to date suffer from male dominance. Pathetic! I have tried highlighting this issue in two of my articles and I don’t know why i find it necessary to destroy the oppressive male characters in my stories.

What do you hope to achieve in the blogging world?

Being articulate in expressing social affairs of the day. Currently Kenya is facing GBV, Domestic Violence, and FGM. Being able to cover these stories first hand will be my blogger moment

Have you met anybody from a blog in real life? If not, who would you like to meet?

Not met anyone yet but definitely it would be everyone, probably organize a blogger meet up and we get to chat over coffee and share ideas!

Who has been/is your role model? Why?

This question finds me off-guard for real! I really do not have one in particular but i do pick my matching pieces from several humans out there.

Favorite spot to relax?

The Nairobi Arboretum… with a book of-course! Something about the serenity of the place refreshes my inner self…Wait, that moment under a hot shower is heavenly!

One thing you can never get tired of eating?

Chipolatas … we have a special connection.

Do you wear something you’d feel empty without?

Perfume…. I can do without a bra but not a perfume. I use it even after my night shower before going to bed…. Addiction right?

Do you let everyone around you see the real you?

I find it so hard to pretend.. I do me all through, love it or leave it!

Would you ever go to a nudist beach?

OMG! why not, as long as no spy cameras around. Clothes get boring at times. But on a serious note, hiding a little of the titties and genitals with bikinis and “mankinis” would be more of my ideal kind of nudist beach.

Where would you rather be right this moment?

Penang, Malaysia…. the street art, the food, the scenery, the culture…. so breath taking!

I nominate;

Kiddie254 https://kiddie254.wordpress.com/

odongoem https://odongoem.wordpress.com/

Sura Za Tsuma https://wesleytsuma.wordpress.com/

iamwashy https://iamwashyy.wordpress.com/

Betcha Didn’t Know https://betchadidntknowit.wordpress.com/

karaninjiru https://karaninjiru.wordpress.com/

blogstromborn https://blogstormborn.wordpress.com/

An Impartial Soul https://impartialsouls.wordpress.com/

Marcel https://doubleonews.wordpress.com/

Kenphiliporiku https://kenphiliporiku.wordpress.com/

Makaitah https://kenphiliporiku.wordpress.com/

Questions for my nominees;

  1. Why did you choose blogging?
  2. What do you think is the future of blogging?
  3. Do you always finish reading books? What would make you leave a book unfinished?
  4. Would you rather marry a spouse with a 9-5, the suit and tie type or an adventurous spouse who makes a living outside the 9-5 routine, i.e, a producer, a photographer etc?
  5. What’s the most stupid excuse you ever gave your teacher to escape punishment?

Shout out to everyone out there living their lives unbothered and reading my work. Much Love…♥♥♥

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