In an era of curated realities, people are more interested in the photo than the story behind it.

Let me remind you of a story. Not just any story, but a fire story. One that reminds us that the fire doesn’t mean God has abandoned you.

I’m a woman raising boys who will one day be men, and I refuse to raise another generation that thinks emotional distance is masculinity.

My wilderness taught me to stop justifying behavior that was clearly beneath me. To stop mistaking breadcrumbs for feasts.

Sometimes we find ourselves in these moments where we’re just not ready to let go of something that God has clearly told us to release or to go on an assignment we aren’t ready to face.

Through all the storms, I have learnt how tough I am built, and those that almost broke me left me with lessons.

Muhoroni is more than a sugarcane town. It’s a town of visionaries, creators, and changemakers.

I hope this reminds you: your “Super Sema” moment is coming. Maybe not exactly how you pictured it, but in a way that will make you sit back one day, smile at your mug of tea.

I will marry out of want, not need. There’s power in that distinction.

This chapter of my life has been about reclaiming who I am, not just as a mother, not just as a co-parent, but as Elsa. A woman who is allowed to have dreams, make mistakes, laugh loudly, take space, and say no.

Let’s be honest, it’s easier to blame than to be fair. But fairness is what we need. Accountability is for everyone.

Tonight, I keep thinking about how the devil thrives in secrecy.

Over the years, through joy, heartbreak, diapers, deadlines, and deep personal growth, life has taught me a few profound lessons. Maybe you’ll see yourself in them too.

It takes two to make a baby, yet the number of women who are out here raising them alone keeps rising.

By now, you all know that I love love, and if this isn’t your cup of tea, sip from somewhere else.

They talked, not just about the weathered memories of their childhood but about the lives they’d lived apart.

Now, it's my turn to be a mommy. I am the mother my kids look up to. To be fearless, wise, and always present.

Six months ago, a door swung open. On one side stood the striking Mr. M, and on the other side was the lovely, shy Lady S.

Ladies, do you tell your male platonic friends that you love them? Hayaaa, let's discuss.

Consider this a tribute board for Pepe's memory. If you have any stories you'd like to share about him, please feel free to leave a comment.