I writing this so I don't forgot to have gratitude. 

Somethings have become so routine that we forget how wonderous they are. 

I had passport before I could read or even spell my name. 

I travelled on a plane before I could speak in sentences, use a spoon to eat or I could even go to the toilet alone. 

I think about this because I remember my father once told me that he used to attend primary school barefoot cause he did not own a pair of shoes.  My mum  was born at home, the only record of her birth is her baptism certificate. To forget how far my parents had to  have come to instill flying on a plane in their children as a normal and possible part of life from an early age would be very disrespectful.

As a child the excitement of being able to go to Jomo Kenyatta International Airport just to see the planes land and take off was quite an adventure.  At that time you could go to the top of the terminal building  and watch them even if you weren't travelling. There was a tiny shop that sold soft drinks and snacks and we had to pay an entrance fee. When members of the family were arriving during the day, my father liked to take us to witness it. Little Maria was always ecstatic seeing her Mum or brothers stepping off the plane. This was in the early 1990s; today understandably, there are so many security measures in place you can barely get into the building. 

Everyone would clap for the pilot when the plane landed; travelling was an event! Passengers would be dressed up in their best outfits, My mum in her bold pointy heels and me in my cute puffy dress. The air hostesses were admired for their uniforms and perfect make-up. They still look smart today, but back then I remember they had to be perfectly-put-together which couldn't have have been healthy I guess. 

When my elder brother was travelling to the United States to study, three BIG families packed into three not-so-big cars to go to the airport. Some of us sat in the boot of the car. More than twenty people seeing off one person at the airport. Those were the days...

As I said at the beginning of this post, I am writing this so that I don't forget what a privilege it is to fly. Even if it has become quite the routine now days.

I am grateful. 

           Do you have any special memories? Share them in comments, would love to hear them 

I moved to Zambia for career growth mostly, but really to gain a different perspective.

I needed some uncertainty to challenge and propel me to make positive life changes.  A very tame down version of Yes theory and the Seek Discomfort challenges but non the less a bold action for me to take in 2021. 

From the beginning of my stay in Zambia, there were great colleagues who created an expat community and welcomed me into it. There were many dinners, meet ups and BBQs (Something I hope to take with me to Italy). There were always laughs, information sharing and companionship; I never once felt lonely.  

However I went from "Yes, let's do this!"  to "What am I doing?" 

many times throughout the year.... 

• When I was in transit and got to Addis Ababa airport and my flight said Harare and not Lusaka
• When I realized I would have to pay double what I budgeted for in rent
• When I realized how expensive things were
• When I realized my workload made it difficult for  me to keep up with my  masters studies
• When the hot water pipe burst in the bathroom at 3.00am  and I thought a bomb had gone off
• When it took a while to find a good hair salon

 I had to adapt to a new office culture and learn how to work within my new  team. It was like finding my voice and purpose again.  I wrote about some bullying that took place mid year here.   Digging deep within to keep going during that time was needed,  luckily I had previous experiences and a supportive friend with a sincere listening ear.   

The things I will miss most

• My lovely home with big screen TVs, a washing machine and a teeny-tiny pool(for the super hot days!). Btw...my home was on the cheaper end in the  area I choose to live in. 
• My friendship circle and our gatherings. I went bowling for the first time in many many years. Special mention of Latitude, Cantina, Prime Joint, Arirang Korean Restaurant, JCS Food and Indian Fusion for all the lovely lunches and  dinners. 
• My 15 minute walk to work and to the supermarket.
• Mini local adventures with Kathrine, Suraj and Maya
• Ulendo Eats mostly 3 trees, Mint Active and Eataly   were my picks for takeaways. 
• Ulendo and Yango taxis.... there were no Boda Bodas carrying humans in Lusaka and I didn't want to buy a car so this app was very convenient. 
• Nandos! (Why did you leave East Africa? I miss you already.) 
• Weekend Food markets for all the ribs, lemonade, cup cakes, cookies and biryani that I enjoyed. 
• African Butterfly Trio Dip....so addictive!
• Our honorary YES Unit, my colleagues have a fantastic sense of humor.
• Getting my nails done ...I had some serious nail game in 2022!
• Sitting in an arm chair in my bedroom drinking  my first cup of coffee of the day and watching a #kdrama or #cdrama on a Saturday morning...

It is the month of love. 

I hardly ever write on theme but for once I am on time and intend to contribute to this conversation.

My word for 2022 was 'heartbreak'. 

Both old and new; the wounds were seeping.

Unfortunately, in this world of innovations and AI,

 I couldn't make my way to the nearest  pharmacy and buy a self-medicated pill to fix it.

Why isn't there an antibiotic to clear emotional trauma yet?

Reluctantly accepting being disappointed by Number One, 

and the other significant two that followed was the only way to go. 

I had often pondered whether I was too impatient, but Number One returned to my life and in his alcoholic-abusive-confused-state confirmed very clearly that he was the problem not me.

My fault was that I allowed it until my big brother Paul said "WTF?...No!"

He told me I was worth more. I knew I had to listen because

Paul and I never have such conversations.

That was the trigger for everything I had been holding in.

In this new year I just want healing. Come what may... I just want a healed heart.

My intention is set and I have informed God about it. 

I am devoted to this mission.

This weekend, bored of Netflix and you tube I decided to finally read a book my dear friend from University had mailed me years ago. As fate would have it, I packed it in my suitcase when coming to Zambia.

All About Love by Bell Hooks......and deep...deep....exhale. .. There are so many layers to this book. It is a journey not a quick read. I know there  will be many days of reflection and correction, possibly a lot of re-reading, highlighting and note-taking.

"Everyone assumes that we will know  how to love instinctively. Despite overwhelming evidence to that contrary, we still accept that family is the primary school for love."

I knew nothing!

"Most psychologically and /or physically abused children have been taught by parenting adults that love can coexist with abuse"

I am one of those! According to Bell Hooks many of us are.

"I got what I was accustomed to getting-care and affection, usually mingled with a degree of unkind-ness, neglect and on some occasions outright cruelty." 

My whole dating life!

"Estrangement from feelings makes it easier for men to lie because they are often in a trance state, utilizing survival strategies of asserting Manhood that they learned as boys. This inability to connect with other carries with it and inability to assume responsibility for causing pain."

Not just romantic relationships and but all types of relationships with men. 

"The wounded heart learns self love by first overcoming low self esteem." 

I wrote once that my mum had a big heart and so much love yet she never received that love back. In my childhood I watched her receiving the opposite and felt helpless to change anything. This book made me  wish she was taught to love herself the same way she loved those dear to her.

She REALLY  deserved so much more.

Bell Hooks' book says all the kind things I wish we all could have said to her before she died.

Now I am the one listening to those kind words. 

  I hope I make progress. 

Have you read the book? Are you on a journey too? In the comment section write your thoughts

Let's tell the truth as Bell Hooks so elegantly wrote.

I co-facilitated a workshop in Zambia this week with twenty refugee children.

The  moment I saw their internal spark come alive was during the digital storytelling session that I was leading on. 

The objective of the session was to teach the power of storytelling to influence positive change in their communities. 

It was really wonderful to watch their creativity thrive, as they tackled their projects. 

I wanted to write about this on the blog because I too am a creative at heart. 

For the last ten years of my career I have been allowed to demonstrate this through copy writing, photography, graphic design and video editing. 

I have been paid to do the very things that delighted me as a child; tell stories and make things!

I have made a professional career  doing the very things that I thought would remain hobbies for the rest of my life!

And some how over the last four years, there have been opportunities to teach children and young people to nurture these same skills that I thought were worthless when I was a mere naïve teenage! (Dear creative community, forgive me for my thoughts I was young🙈)

I am grateful.

I've  worked hard. 

I've  found joy.

Ultimately, God put me in those spaces. 

God showed me that this was possible.

I am now moving to another country to do the same....to be creative...how!?

I am am so grateful.  

Thank you God for showing me that my existence and purpose is relevant. 

Thank You for showing me my place in this large and interesting world.

Sometimes I forget but You never miss an opportunity to remind me.

"The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable." - Robert Henri