L.J's red jumper chronicles.

 Why the Brain Makes It So Hard to Leave Abuse One of the most common questions asked about survivors of abuse is, "Why didn't they just leave?" Others ask why they didn't fight back, why they stayed, or even why they seemed to defend the very person who was hurting them. The answer is far more complex than choice or willpower. It lies, in part, within the brain. Chronic abuse doesn't just leave emotional scars, it changes the way the brain functions. Prolonged exposure to fear, manipulation, and trauma alters the brain's stress response, emotional regulation, and decision-making systems. Over time, the brain adapts to survive in an unsafe environment, a process known as neuroplasticity. These adaptations are protective in the moment, but they can make it incredibly difficult for someone to leave. Imagine trying to run while your brain believes that any movement could put you in even greater danger. Survivors often describe feeling emotionally frozen, disconne...

Have you ever noticed that many people tend to be closer to relatives on their mother’s side of the family? It’s not necessarily because maternal relatives are kinder or more welcoming sometimes they are, sometimes they aren’t. One possible explanation lies in the science of imprinting and early emotional bonding. During pregnancy, a mother’s social environment often includes frequent interactions with people from her own family i.e., her siblings, parents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. These are often the individuals who call, visit, offer support, and whom she speaks about most often. The developing baby, while still in the womb, is sensitive to the mother’s emotional states and physiological responses. When the mother experiences comfort, familiarity, or joy in relation to these people, those emotional signals can influence the baby’s early associations. After birth, these same relatives often continue to play a prominent emotional role in the child’s environment. Importantly, this ex...

“A mother’s love is seen and felt…” Behavioural scientists have long documented the differences between men and women, often highlighting subtle contrasts in how care and affection are expressed. In many of these discussions, mothers are portrayed as the more nurturing parent, soothing, expressive, emotionally present. Popular books like ‘Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus’ have further simplified these differences, making them easy to digest, easy to repeat, and easy to believe. But who is to say a father is not just as nurturing only that his love speaks a different language? Where a mother might hug a crying child and rock them gently until the tears subside, a father might quietly ask what happened and then disappear briefly, returning with a sweet, a snack, or an idea that might fix the problem. Not because he doesn’t feel the pain, but because his instinct is to solve, to restore balance, to make things okay again in the way he knows how.  As children grow older, this di...

“Mama! Mama!” That call became her signature tune, the sound that made her mother’s heart skip a beat every time she heard it. This is the story of Ella, the family’s messenger of doom. A role she never asked for, but one that somehow chose her, maybe because she is the eldest daughter in the family of Habbu. Ella is the fourth child out of eight. Before her are three brothers whom Habbu, their father, sent to the white man’s land, America, to study and make something of themselves. So when they left, Ella became the eldest at home, holding the fort for everyone else. She took care of her parents, her younger siblings, and in many ways, became the glue that kept the family running. With that came another role, that of the bearer of news. All news. But mostly, bad ones. The first message came like a thief in the night. A telegram from Nairobi. Her younger sister’s husband had died, barely two years into marriage, leaving behind two little children, one still breastfeeding. There were n...

When I think of prayer, I remember that the African way was often through calling on our ancestors. Long before formal religion came to our lands, our people believed that those who had gone before us still walked with us, standing at the threshold between the living and the divine. Ancestors were not distant shadows but custodians of wisdom, protectors of families, and intercessors who carried our cries to God. Whether through libations poured on the earth, whispered names in the quiet of the night, or ritual gatherings around the fire, prayer in Africa was deeply relational, a way of keeping the bond between generations unbroken. I never imagined I would one day find myself reaching for that path. But when my niece lay in a hospital bed, and doctors struggled to find a clear diagnosis for her discomfort, I felt powerless. That night, my sister sent a message saying the doctor suspected a heart defect. My younger sister and I had just left Gertrude’s Children’s Hospital around 3 a.m.,...

I met my mother-in-law in 2018. She was warm, charming, and generous , the kind of woman who always had a thoughtful gift in hand and an extra seat at her table. I thought I had won the jackpot. Free lunches, laughter, and a sense of belonging that felt genuine. I grew fond of her, and honestly, I believed she felt the same way about me. We were family or so I thought. But 2024 opened my eyes in ways I didn’t expect. It wasn’t one big betrayal, it was the slow, painful realization that the kindness had come with conditions. That behind the smiles, there were whispers. I discovered she had planted someone in my home, a house girl ,who fed her stories. False ones. And from those stories, she built a narrative: that I was a mother who hated her child (my husband), all because I was trying to balance motherhood and a demanding career. It didn’t stop there. She and her two nieces, her inner circle, decided I was worth investigating. They quietly went behind my back, digging, questioning, wa...

 Part 1 "Peter! Peter! Light the bonfire and open the gates. It is time." Mama Lushana called out to the farm boy, her voice carrying the weight of tradition and loss. The title Mama —a sign of respect in her community—had been given to her by the church. It meant "Mother" and was used by everyone to address her, though not all knew the trials that earned her the name. Flashback Lushana was born in the 1940s, one of only two children her mother bore before tragedy struck. Her mother died in childbirth, leaving Lushana and her younger sister to navigate a harsh world under the care of their stepfamily. Determined to provide for her sister, 13-year-old Lushana agreed to marry into a well-off family. Her dowry would allow her younger sister and step-siblings to afford an education. Her husband, Habbu, was an evangelist, often away on preaching missions. While he spread the Gospel, Lushana stayed behind, carrying the weight of countless household and farm ...

  ‘See those fallen shadows there Are the shadows false of life?’ ~except from poem by anonymous    When l wake up in the morning l love to hear the song of the birds, crickets and our loud chickens in the storehouse echoing to let them out before the crickets disappear from the grass. But within all that noise, a voice also echoes - a person singing, it is Meja. He has a different tune each morning and today he was singing alongside his radio a luo song.  Mornings weren’t complete until you hear a collection of these sounds…the birds in the sky, crickets, chicken then Meja. Oh and incase you overslept in the house of Wuod, my father, then you would hear also mum’s voice pulling you out from your sweet slumber. Their house their rules, in the house of Wuod everyone including our cat was to be awake by  8am . l personally hated mornings, and so any opportunities to be sent out to get something from the shop l would always jump at it, if not l would ...

  ‘Please help him…help him out!’ To date these words still ring in my ear.   ‘That food is not going to cook itself!’ My mum shouted out to any one of her child who was within earshot. The trick was always to hope you were the only one of your siblings who heard it so that you can tell the others the task was assigned to them under the false pretence that it came directly from mum. My elder sister, Lauren, was the queen bee of doing that!   But for today it was a case of all hands-on deck situation in the kitchen. Visiting that day were our godmother, mom’s friend, our maternal Aunties and Lauren’s friend. It was going to be ladies' night and we always aimed to impress with our prowess in cooking. With my sisters Lauren and Paula we each automatically took the role of our speciality in the kitchen. Lauren was the meat queen, Paula was the pastry queen and I was the worldwide exquisite cuisine, of which for that day I was making Indian naans and baked potato...

‘We found each other I helped you out of a broken place You gave me comfort But falling for you was my mistake’             - Call out My Name by the Weeknd   This is the end. Maybe is the fact that Siba asked his friend if they could exchange girlfriends or that Kasanda forgot she was dating Siba when she let another guy flirt with her. It was the word unsaid that needed to be said, who was going to say it first?   Kasanda The news of her Uncle’s death devastated her, her mother’s brother. The news came just a few days after they had gone to see him at the hospital and he had looked so much better. Maybe that is the thing about death, it likes to creep in when least expected. A secrecy it dwells upon, only sometimes known to the one with whom it owes. Kasanda was placed in charge of designing and printing the funeral programs, and the graveyard flowers acquisition. It helped distract her from feeling t...

‘ What is love? Oh baby, don't hurt me Don't hurt me No more.’ Oh how we all wish love was simple, faultless and pure but this is never always the case. Haddaway said it better in the song ‘what is love.’   Siba met Kasanda over for coffee at their favourite spot in Nairobi. Kasanda had just texted him ‘something is missing’ and he asked her to meet him up for coffee.    Choosing a table for two by the far corner, they sat down.   Siba: Hi Kasanda, you look good! Kasanda: Am just wearing jeans and a sweater top.  Siba: You still look good. I know you don’t like compliments!{smirking} Kasanda:{smiling shyly} You look official, are you from court? Siba: Yea...l had case at milimani law courts. One of my firm’s client was arrested for being drunk and disorderly with violence  as he had attacked one of the police officers saying, ‘do you know who l am, you stupid Empty officer!’ The judge was ruthless and fined the guy way more for his release. Kasand...

Girl Meets Boy Chapter 3:  ‘if birds would talk, they would sing of love. If my heart would speak, it would sing of your name If my eyes could sing, they would sing of your presence With my mouth, l will speak of your love’ Siba called Kasanda to meet him outside her parents house dreading to meet Kasanda’s parents. Schools were closed for the Christmas break and everyone in campus were literally chased off from school hostels- a strategy for students not to play married couples. Kasanda always jumped at any opportunity to go home due to the fact that school was already stressful enough and there was always no better place like home…only until when mum wakes her up early on a Saturday morning with what she used to call the ‘Bear style!’ Mum enters opens and leaves her bedroom door open *Kasanda is still not awake* Mum enters again 10 minutes later and draws the curtain *Still asleep…* A sarcastic cough at the door *No sound from the sle...