MONEY, MONEY, MONEY….money. How many things have you done purely for the love of money? If you answer honestly, money probably rules the majority of our life choices-what you do, what you buy, what you invest in life, etc. We’re all in a relationship with money and most of us are in an abusive one. Simply stated, money is the pimp of life. It forces us to do things we don’t want to do-get up in the morning, brush your teeth, and get ready for a job that you probably don’t like. But despite how abusive the relationship is, we always go back to it. Like the battered wife, we make excuses for money- ‘Oh but he buys me x,y, and z’ or ‘he takes care of the kids’- and hang on to the hope that the relationship will change one day. But deep down inside we know that money will never change. Money will always be money.
If we want the relationship to be different, we must change.If we don’t want to be slaves, we must use money against itself and buy our freedom from it-from the debt and more importantly from the dependence on a 9-5 job. We have to learn to be like the greats, the Russel Brand and the P. Diddy’s of the world, who learned how to pimp their money. We must always have a plan- which some of us think of as a budget but the more ambitious think of as a business plan. If there’s anything my broke ass has learned from rich people is that they don’t like to spend their own money, they invest it. And we all know money is a great force to be reckoned with so we’ll probably be more successful if we face it with a team. So how about that squad you spend every weekend drinking with. Maybe it is time to stop digging an early grave with alcohol and start investing in a cemetery instead. Excuse my morbidity but its important that we acknowledge that how we spend our money can either kill us or make us a killing. May you have great success in the latter.
And when y’all make it big out there, don’t forget to come back and tell us how you did it- preferably over a nice lunch at the Hilton on your bill.
Love,
So as promised, "In the Beginning part 2". So to keep on with the Bob Marley song-blog titles this blog entry is called No Woman no Cry( let's see how long I can keep this up). So to start where we left off. My family first lived in Carbondale, IL where it wasn't so nice. It was a barren ice land as i earlier mentioned. No jobs, nothing to do. So anyway, school wasn't the best for me because I didn't make friends due to the fact I was a foreigner and people didn't like that. For example, One time I remember crying because we were supposed to be writing in "cursive" in class and since I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. The kid told the teacher "she doesn't know cursive, she's from Africa!"I had one true friend, Kyle, who wasn't very friendly in that she was a loner and instead of playing with me, she would go play by herself. But then some teachers, I guess out of pity, introduced me to these girls who I guess were forced to talk and play with me. So obviously I didn't like it here, after being separated with my best friend in the whole world and being turned into an outcast. however there was one good thing about carbondale: Charlie. Charlie was in 5tth grade and I was in 4th grade. I know Charlie isn't a cool sounding name but he was the most popular guy in school. Gorgeous. charismatic. charming. and all the girls were in love with him. He lived like 1 house away from mine and so we got off the same bus stop. I guess he was just a friendly guy or he was attracted to the gold threads and cowrie shells in my hair like most people. Anyway, he would try to talk to me about the cars passing by: Hummers, Mustangs which I knew nothing about coming from kenya where every foreign car is a Toyota. So i just never said anything or nodded my head and ran home to write on my hand: Mercy Loves Chuck. He would play American football with his friends and I would climb the tree in my backwards to watch while pretending to look at the street. He would play with my brother and watch the cars on the streets go by together( maybe the reason why my brother is so fascinated with cars) until he was almost like a second brother to my little brother, Juma. So it went on like this for a year until the last week before we moved to Alabama where I was jumping rope with his little sister(btw i am a mean jump roper) when he jumped in the rope and started jumping behind me. I could feel him breathing on my neck and I just got so nervous and tripped on the rope- i didn't fall btw. So I ran back in the house out of shame. Anyway, so during the last day of Carbondale, his sister kept hinting that Chuck liked me but obviously I was a shy girl and couldn't act on it #1 because my parents would kill me and #2 b/c of the whole Kenyan accent thing. Anyway, so i left Carbondale without ever saying goodbye to him and when during the first year in Alabama, I would kiss his picture from the yearbook at our elementary school. I don't know what happened to the picture but I still remember him clearly from his dimples to his irresistible smile. Last summer after finding the yearbook, I looked up my friend Kyle and found her on facebook. sent a brief message trying to remind her who I was but no reply. Anyway, i didn't expect one considering the fact that she has totally changed, has a lip and nose piercing, has straightened and colored her hair but even through all that, she still can't hide her striking unforgettable face. I also tried to find Chuck but no luck-he went by several aliases back in elementary school so I wont be surprised if he doesn't go by chuck or charlie anymore. But the funny thing is, even though I know that there is like 0.001% chance of me ever seeing him again, I still wonder WHAT IF: what if I saw him again, what if I hadn't moved, what if I confronted him about our feelings for each other. So, if you are reading this Chuck- i know u're not but if you are. I want you to know that you will always hold a special place in my heart for being my first crush. P.S. when i thought of this blog, this was not the road i was thinking it would take but I think everyone likes love stories more than heart-break stories. 
So I am new to blogging. It's something that I have always thought of doing and today after reading several blogs, namely- the diary of a kenyan campus girl. I decided it's never too late or too early to start in my case. So to introduce myself, I want to remain somewhat anonymous so I will go by mercy. To explain the name of my blog- "stolen from Africa, brought to America": I took it from the lyrics of Bob Marley's Buffalo soldier. This lyric I feel applies to me in that, my family and I migrated to the U.S. when I was 9 years old and at that age I had no say so whatsoever in the decision. At the time I regretted it and continued to do so even after we moved here-mainly due to the fact that we landed in a barren icy land in the middle of nowhere-carbondale, IL.however, I have come to appreciate the decision over the years. Anyway that's too long a story to get into. So for my first post-"in the beginning"- song title by k'naan whose music i follow-, i will talk about me as a
person.
I would say that I am not a normal person-but who is- and not very open-hearted person, maybe somewhat self-centered person-again who isn't. So to self-analyze myself and to give you insight to maybe why I am the way I am. At 9 years old my best friend in the whole wide world, my other half, my soul mate... and I were separated. I was 9 and she was 10-i will refer to her as rose , and so she understood what was happening. I thought America is just right over there- as a kamba would say-nio va, I will still see her. But NO! I never saw her until 3 years later and only for 3 days. I talked to her on the phone from time to time but that was rare due to- time difference and school. So basically, the one person I loved most in the world and still love was ripped out of my world-and this is what i would call heartbreak. as a 9 year old, I think I took the heartbreak well-crying myself to sleep every night,hating my mother for bringing me to this wretched place-the norm. Anyway so from that experience I learned don't love and you won't get hurt. so in relationships even with my friends today- I practice apathy where no matter what they do- I am not hurt because I am numb and also becoz the only friendship i honestly value is with my family and rose who i talk to once every blue moon. so that explains my closed heart- per say. so I will get more into this story and more into me next time/week "in the beginning part 2-NO WOMAN, NO CRY.
