Ark-wired Tastes

  Why do we mourn yet so easily  forget the existence of those who left us? What about the existence of those who live among us but are dead within?  Why does life have to go on, despite their demise? Don’t we owe it to them to hold space for them a bit longer? Was their existence just but a speck of dust, blurring our vision? So easily wiped away in the face of their absence? I have tasted life and; I have tasted death Beloved, choose life -not because it’s worth living- but because even with your death, life goes on!

  The Nairobi CBD remains famous for being a buzz hive of activities. Ranging from the “mrembo salon!” calls along every Best Lady store in town, to the “mrembo nails!” chants to pants being randomly draped on your shoulders as you navigate Tom Mboya Street, to becks of   “twende Kakamega” as you hurriedly scuffle to make it in time for your 8am lecture.  Woe unto you if that happens to be the day that you decide to rock your natural 4C African hair. Woe unto you if your pace isn’t fast enough to get past the calls and finally, woe unto you aren’t strong enough to resist the firm grips that drag you to buy clothes that you most definitely don’t need. At the heart of all this chaos are street families, they remain quite distinct amidst all the buzz. The other night, I  was leaving carrefour and a small girl, roughly aged four years walked up to me and said “Aunty nibuyie unga” What might seem to be a normal request from a homeless person stuck with me for the rest ...

  I hate making difficult calls. The ones that go beyond affecting just me. Let’s be real, if it was only my life on the line, the impact wouldn’t be that much. And even if it was, the damage control needed would be less anyway. It could be delayed. On the contrary, when so many lives are at stake, when people depend on you, you have to try to get things right. I recently made partner, at a firm. Now hold your horses! It’s not a real life firm. We don’t take walk-ins - at least not yet. Depending on what you consider to be recent, it’s been almost a month now since I was selected to be managing partner for one of the firms in my school’s moot court society. That should explain the “it's not a real life firm” reference.  It then goes without saying that I’m expected to lead a team; alongside an amazing co–managing partner, and to say the least, we’re fairing on well. At least that’s what I think. Now before you call me out for tooting my own horn, I promise to get feedback from...

  I met my younger self for coffee today, She was fifteen minutes early, and so was I She fiddled with the menu, I confidently placed our orders She squinted, I adjusted my prescription glasses above my nose bridge She tells me she yearns for a sibling, I show her pictures of my not so young anymore, baby brother She tells me she’s finally learnt how to skate, I tell her I’d probably fall off if I tried skating She says she can’t wait to become a lawyer, I show her pictures of me in a moot She wonders if things will change, I tell her some things will, and some things will stay the same. Her friends call her Jowe, mine call me Mueke I hope we get to meet for coffee again soon (The poem is an adaptation of the original one by Jennae Ceceilia Poetry on Tiktok)

  Is ignorance really bliss or is knowledge too hard a responsibility to bear?  Is ignorance really bliss or is it a  narrative to keep people in their place, a means to quell resistance or better yet, stop it before it even starts? Is there such a thing as being too woke? And if there is, what is the metric of weighing wokeness, why is it the right and only metric that we should go by? Individuals who are so different yet constrained by some objective rule on how to navigate life. Limited to a certain way of life. Quite the irony, don't you think? The thing with questioning existing societal systems of structure is you realize how proximal they are to your person. Not only do you notice general oppressive systemic trends and the classical patriarchal norms ingrained in pretty much everything but you also notice that they are portrayed in the very same songs you like to get down to and the films you binge watch. Could this be a mere coincidence? I think not. Music is appe...

 Ark-wired Tastes As a yapper, I'd say having a blog feels golden. It's synonymous to the experience of a kid in a candy store. So welcome to my space. This is a very informal space, where we get away from how fast-paced life can be. You get to listen to me yap about my life and the experiences that come with it. This is me basically documenting my twenties. I hope you love it here, because I do!  For the first blog I thought why not get down to how the name of the blog came up. For starters, I just wanted to sound cool, okay? And I kind of do, lol. Ark-wired tastes comes from the word 'acquired' See where I'm going with this? It's like a homophone. But even besides that I tend to think that most of the experiences we hold dear to us are highly shaped by the community that surrounds us. This got me thinking as to whether we have things that we can call our very own. If you've been on TikTok long enough (read if you doom scroll enough) you've probably see...