Orama's 1st Holy communion after party...

After having the holy bread that tastes like nothing, we partied a storm...

Orama's 1st Holy Communion

On May the 18th, 2013, my 8 year old boy received Jesus as his personal savior. 

He told me the holy bread tastes like nothing. Lol

Craig Russell Nkunga - 18 December 1979 - 30 April 2008

Five years ago today, death cruelly stole my only brother never to return him.
Words never can describe the aching emptiness left deep in my soul, nor shall the unstoppable tears I've shed fill it.

Craig dear,
I sincerely pray there's a life after death. That way you and I can say the things we didn't say, and do the things we didn't do.

Keep resting well darling bro!

Soul Provider...

Talk about love,
Talk about trust,
Talk about forever Hannah, when we talk about us.
Give you my world,
Stick to my guns,
Believe me when I tell you Hannah, that we've just begun...

Hannah, I wanna be
Your soul provider...

Oh my!!!
Haven't listened to the sweet sounds of Michael Bolton in five years.
Had almost forgotten how exceptionally woozy this musical genius makes me feel.
Viva Michael Bolton!
Even with your lovely long hair shaved, you're still the greatest. The magic that made you "what" you are wasn't in your hair, but your vocals, and deep down your soul.

Love to infinity and beyond.

Hannah Bolton.

Happy 8th birthday Orama

That's my 8 year old lad over there. New age, new haircut.
Born on the 8th of April 2005 at 11.39pm. My biggest pride!

RIP Chinualumogu Achebe

Even though I still strongly think that as a writer, Achebe was overhyped, I have to appreciate and agree with the fact that the guy had plenty of boldness in him to stand up for what he believed in. He just was fearless that way. Never the one to mince words in his writing. Achebe wrote facts. Only facts, and that made his literary work irresistible.
That is all I have to say... For now...

RIP

These are a few of my "unfavorite" things...

Maria Von Trapp of Sound of Music was as poor as a church toad. But she still had a long list of favorite things.
Sometimes I sit through the night imagining myself in her old tattered shoes... I try my hardest to envision myself In that "ugliest of the dresses Bridgitta Von Trapp rudely said she ever had seen". But for obvious reasons, my imaginations don't materialize. They will never do!
I am Hannah Nkunga, not Maria Von Trapp. And unlike Maria, I am allergic to poverty. I don't have a long list of favourite things either. What I have instead is a list of the opposite. A long list of "unfavourite" things.

Here are some of them:

Shopping.
Shopping.
Shopping.
Lipstick.
Eye shadow.
Eye shadow.
Eye liner.
Twizzers.
Plucked eyebrows.
Drawn eyebrows.
Drawn eyebrows.
Drawn eyebrows.
Drawn eyebrows.
Maths.
Maths.
Maths.
Frogs.
Frogs.
Men who cheat on their wives.
Men who cheat on their wives and are stupid enough to get caught.
Men who cheat on their wives and are stupid enough to get caught.
Men who cheat on their wives and are stupid enough to get caught.
Men who cheat on their wives, stupidly get caught in the act and lie through their "36" teeth about it, blaming everything on the other woman.
Women whose whole world revolves around their men.
Women whose whole world revolves around their men.
Weaves.
Weaves.
Wigs.
Wigs.
Women who catch their men cheating but confront the other woman instead.
Women who catch their men cheating but confront the other woman instead.
Lizards.
Crocs.
Snakes.
Men who father children and run away from them.
Men who father children and run away from them.
Women who always give irresponsible men an excuse.

These are a few of my "unfavourite" things.

Even at my happiest, most ecstatic moment, a slight thought of one of the above is enough to turn me into a coldblooded murderer...

*the list is intentionally repetitive**