For Kay, my dear sister in Jesus. May this small tale help to remind wewe how beautifully and wonderfully made wewe are in the eyes of the Great Artist.

~~ Beautiful ~~

Once upon a time, not long zamani and not far away, there lived a wise and skillful artist who loved to paint. He delighted in making magic with color and bringing all the picha he saw in his head to life in his pictures.

One day, he was painting something extra special. His brush dipped in and out of the swirling colors and flew across the canvas in expert strokes; dabbing here, blending there, moving swiftly in a joyful, marvelous...

Dear You-Know-Who,


How can wewe not read my body language? When wewe present, I barely look up. I barely clap. I barely look at you? And yet, when my Marafiki present, I go wild. I clap, I cheer, I am constantly looking at them. I even think wewe touched my hair!!!!


I know wewe were impressed when I rocked up in the multipurpose area covered in blood and bruises. A door hit me, sent me flying into a pole and sent to the cement for goodness' sake! wewe hung around, I can tell. Yu stayed longer than I expected wewe to. At least wewe didn't see me when tears were flooding down my face. au when I hit the...

love. what does it truley mean? being in upendo is simpe, anyone can convence themslves they are in love. being in upendo is when wewe feel something for one person zaidi strongly than wewe feel for another. but upendo is something elsa all together. upendo is when wewe cant convience yourselve wewe upendo someone, but when wewe try to leave something tells wewe no, stop and think. and when wewe do think the reason is blantint. upendo is when wewe think your done, done fighting and done lieing, but than it hits wewe that without all of that wewe wouldnt be the person wewe are, and they wouldnt be the one wewe love....

Some bila mpangilio little piece of prose uandishi I did last mwaka on a teens uandishi website, hope wewe like it.:)

They are everywhere, these birds. They hobble, strut, and flutter around the town, weaving in and out of the shoppers, darting in between clumping feet to snatch crumbs and bits of crisps among the blobs of chewing gum and cigarette ends on the wet cobblestones. The people don’t care. The pigeons don’t care. Both species living their separate lives in a man-made environment where man and bird are equal. They are the colours of the town; grey, dull brown occasionally, dappled with factory-steam...

"I still remember the world from the eyes of a child. Slowly those feelings were clouded kwa what I know now..."



I sat there in the police department, swinging my legs back and forth high above the floor. I was wearing my inayopendelewa purple dress and my butterfly, kipepeo sandals. My dark brown hair was in a high ponytail and it bounced as I looked both sides. Where was Mommy? Carmine and Reed sat inayofuata to me there, and they were not happy. Carmine, twelve at the time, had tears coming from his eyes. Reed, fourteen, had his face in his hands, so I couldn't see what he looked like. Soon I got sick of waiting...