It’s time to retire to bed, but I have to do this. I’m racking my brain on which of the many things that have happened today I should share with you. Maybe I should just start from the beginning.
To begin with, I woke up at exactly 11:35 a.m. Yes, I know! That’s embarrassingly late. Which 21st-century woman wakes up eight hours after the rooster has crowed? But I was genuinely exhausted. When I opened my eyes, they were still red and swollen from sleep.
The fact is, when that proverbial rooster crowed, my two daughters, Nadia and Damita, were in the middle of a competition to see who could outdo the other in speaking in tongues. These two have a language all their own, one no one else in the family can decipher. Given that they’re newer arrivals from heaven, I sometimes wonder if they truly can understand each other. My mother-in-law jokes that Chinese people might understand them. Who knows? As I write this, they’re still deep in their cryptic conversation. (For reference, Nadia is 19 months and Damita is just 3 months old.)
By around 12:30 p.m., I had showered, cleaned up both girls, and was ready for the day. The beauty of sleeping in is you temporarily forget your worries. But once I was up, everything came flooding back. I had to call clients, follow up on current projects, and, of course, ask for payments. I hadn’t even had my cup of tea when I was already buried in phone calls, and as usual, each one led to a longer list of tasks.
But it wasn’t the clients that were weighing heavily on my heart today. It was the financial pressure. We owed a substantial balance to the printers to release my book, In the Arms of a Stranger. We were waiting for potential sponsors to get final approvals, but everything felt uncertain.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get more chaotic, the girls kept going with their endless chatter. If I could translate what they were saying, it might go something like this:
“Why is Mom nodding at everything we say?” Damita might ask.
“That’s just what adults do when they’re too tired to speak. It baffles me,” Nadia would respond.
“Then why doesn’t she just lie down and sleep?”
“Beats me!”
Honestly, they wouldn’t even know sleep was desperately calling me!
Eventually, they did nap for two whole hours without waking each other or needing me. But just as I started to settle in, it was time for Damita’s next feeding.
Meanwhile, my anxiety was growing. God seemed to be opening doors everywhere except in getting the books into my hands. I debated calling Agnes, the lady handling the finances, but I’d already reached out to her twice that week. I didn’t want to push too hard.
I called several clients who owed me, but no one could release payments immediately. My husband, George, advised patience. He said if Agnes hadn’t called by Saturday, we could follow up on Monday.
But if you know me, you know patience is not one of my spiritual gifts. I have to fast and pray just to wait for anything. George, on the other hand, is the epitome of calm and rationale.
Then, I got a message from my sister about the money I owed her. She’d lost her job, largely because I had encouraged her to pursue a joint business venture with me, which hadn’t worked out. Worse still, George and she hadn’t been on good terms since. So for the better part of this year, I’ve battled guilt, feeling responsible for upending her life. She’s expecting a child soon and has decided to raise the baby on her own. I’ve tried to convince her to stay with me until the birth, but she’s stubborn and proud.
Her message crushed me. “I cry myself to sleep,” she had written. That line lingered in my head.
I asked George if he had a thousand shillings so I could send her something immediately. We had 1,800. He suggested we give her 800 and keep 1,000. I insisted we give her the full 1,000. I could tell he wanted to argue but chose not to. What he didn’t know was that my emotions were already flaring. I remembered how easily he had given his brother the same amount recently without hesitation. Was he hesitating now because it was my sister?
That thought made me even more restless. I began to spiral, thinking about my sister alone and pregnant, with no support. And all I could think was this is George’s fault.
After feeding Damita and settling her, I slipped out of the house quietly without telling George or Nadia. Nadia is always clinging to my skirt, so I knew I couldn’t take her along if I wanted peace to think and pray.
With the 1,000 shillings in my bag ready to send via M-PESA, I walked. I needed to cool off, to vent, and most importantly, to talk to someone even if it was God. What I didn’t know was that this seemingly small issue had all the makings of a deeper, unresolved conflict. It was a volcano waiting to erupt.
…To be continued.
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